Good Boys
by Fro Ninja
Summary: 1980's Georgia. The state is overrun with crime as the nation is deals with an unknown threat, and the police have their hands filled with the new cartels and murders taking part in the different cities that have come with the chaos. The last line of defense, two teenage boys,who become handymen for the sake of protecting their town. *This is the prequel to Three's A Pair*
1. Episode 1:The First Day

**Author's note; Hey guys! It's the Fro Ninja here with something new here for ya! It's been almost a year since Jester and I started up Three's a Pair as something to commemorate my entrance to the furry world, if you want to call it that. Since then, we've been aiming it to turn it to something extensive and that we can constanly talk about and be proud of how many people have been reading it. Even the story itself has grown into something entirely different than what I originally imagined it to be, which has begun to transition into its own universe with its own lore and termininalogy that's grown with in the universe of Jay Naylors comics.**

 **So obviously, we have more stuff planned for it in the future, including this very project that I've planning for a good several months now that details the youth of the father of the main character of TAP Huey Jones, Harmon Jones, along with Fisk Black in their high school days. I intend for this to be a something of a buddy cop/handyman story, that sheds light on the relationship between the two characters and how it transitions into what it is in the current story. I also plan to give some subtle hints towards historical events mentioned in TAP, such as the Zexion War, a century long war fought between the Pure-types and the Wargods. The story will occasionally switch between Harmon's and Fisks perspective to illuminate more on how the events of the story affects them in their adulthood. As you probably can guess, the story will of course feature original characters, as well as some appearances from the characters in the Better Days webcomic, and both groups will be vital to the story.**

 **Now without further ado, I will leave you to the story of this prequel. Also as a side note, I will also be working on TAP along with Jester as well as this series simultaneously, and the releases of each will be pretty close to each other in the week they both update, so look foward to that. Alright, I've ranted enough, now sit back and enjoy the story!**

* * *

 **Savannah, Georgia**

 **May 4th, 198X 5:56 PM**

 **Abandoned Warehouse off of Caprice and Virtue**

"Do you know why this country was founded?" The young black cat moves one of his chess pieces to a further space upon the bosrd, placing his rook against his opponents bishop, and takes it. Across the board, a black and white furred cat moved another one his pieces as well. The pawn moved two spaces forward, and he then placed his finger on his chins in thought.

"It was founded by immigrants right? They were upset by the treatment they were getting from a buncha blue bloods. They came to this land with the intention of having people like them with no place to go, be able to do anything they want to without restriction. Or something like that. History textbooks tell it was like the greatest day ever, and they invoke this American feeling in anybody who reads it." The black cat then moves forward across the board with his knight, and takes his opponents rook."Oh, well that's fair!" The black and white cat chuckles frustratingly.

"You say it as if that's the only truth. The one that they teach you about in school."

"Then what is the truth? You know something?"

"It was made as a haven for liberals, people who wished for the freedom to make their own choices not just based on free will, but the example that they would leave behind for others that would walk that same path. This was done during a time when such outlooks were considered blashpemy against God. To go against his teachings, and to follow the desires of man, the desires of the flesh, it was something that was not allowed amongst members of the society at the time. They might as well have been worshipping another cultures Gods in the higher ups eyes."

"Sooooo, bascially what you're saying, the country was founded by angry teenagers that weren't happy with the rules of the house, and so they ran away from home until they found a junk yard and called it home? From then on, they could stay up as late as they wanted to!" The black and white cat puffed his chest out in pride.

The black cat sighed.

"Eloquently put Fisk..."

"I try." The chess board remained still for about ten seconds before the young black cat moved his pawn two spaces forward, and places his hand on his chin in thought. Fisk clicked his tongue in irritation, and his eyebrow twitched as his eyes scanned the board quickly at the board to try and look for a way out. He then glared intensly at his opponent, waiting for an interruption in thought.

He grinned as he thought he spotted an opening, and so he pushed his queen toward an open spot on the far right of the board, putting him in trajectory of his opponents king.

"Ha! Check!"

His opponent chuckled, making an obviously confused Fisk in the process.

"It appears that in the process of trying to identify your opponents true intention, you've allowed yourself to become malleable in the process, and prone to prognosticating the outcome, when you yourself haven't figured out your own intentions."

"Say what? Huh?!" As soon as he said that, the young cat had pulled his bishop which had been sitting silently in the left hand side of the board, and pushed it to take Fisk's queen. He let out a cry of devastation at what had just happened, echoing throughout the spaciousness of the abandoned warehouse they were currently in. The smell and lingering of old and used hardware tools flew around their noses, and the discarded scrap stacked on shelves and wooden crates as far the eye could see, extending almost up to 30 feet ceiling. The black and white cat laughed silently, while spinning Fisk's queen piece playfully between his fingers and hands. "Goddamn! You know, you could take it easy on me Harmon. And also, I could do without the SAT words."

Harmon sneered in a playful manner.

"How else I am I supposed to educate you? Besides that, if I took it easy, it would be reversal of feelings of this game. You would get all of the entertainment, and I would get the boredom."

"I'm not bored, I'm frustrated actually. Getting to be pissed now."

"Ahh, still you remain truculent at the slightest jab."

"Again with the big words..."

"Haha...yes, again. Now, if I may finish my statement, and this game? We don't have much time as you should know."

Fisk then pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, to check his watch, noticing that it was going on five minutes to two. "Shit, you're right. Fine, get back to your boring story then."

"It's not boring...*sigh* Basically speaking, the pilgrims that journeyed here came here to create a land of freedom. A place where any rational thought that adhered to human conscience, can be justified by their actions, and not by the vague concept of faith. Here, anyone can say what they want, and mean what they say. Rise to any position in society that they want to regardless of ehtnicity, race, religion, or cultural background. Become any person that they want as long as they put their mind to it. And the people have a say in everything that their government does.

"Sounds like the good ol' U.S of A we're living in now."

"Indeed. If that's the case, why don't more countries in the world view this concept of freedom the exact same way?"

"I dunno. Why?"

"Because, the world has not yet created a true definition of freedom, or rather, there is no true freedom."

"What do you mean?" Fisk moves his pawn toward two spaces trying to catch his bishop in a snare, but Harmon moves back just in time. He then moved the pawn a space closer, practically being in the range of taking his opponent's knight.

"Well allow me to answer your question with a question. What is your definition of freedom?"

"Definition?" Fisk scratches his head in thought, leading Harmon to let out an exhausted sigh, plus a chuckle.

"The meaning of something..."

"I know that! I'm not stupid!"

"Did I say that? My goodness, you certainly are easy to upset."

"Shut up. Anyway, getting back to that question." Harmon then focused on his friend, gazing at him with great intrigue of his answer. "Well, I would say that freedom is the thing that allows me to choose what kind of topping I want on my pizza, or if I choose to have a chocalate ice cream or a cheeseburger for breakfast, or I could say that taco thursdays in lunch room are overrated, or I could call Jenny Hollands hot while she's walking down the hall with her new boyfriend. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, it's something that I choose to do with my own free will. Anything that I can do I can do it because I know that I can. There were tons of people that went out and fought for people living in America to keep retaining that right. Even my father was one of them" Harmon chuckled in amusement, as if he was expecting that answer from his close friend. "But what's with the question all of a sudden? Why did you want to ask me something like that?"

"Because, similar to the grandoise tale of how this great country came to be, there was another group of beings that escaped from their social opressors that had attempted to keep them down with bylaws set by deities, and led themselves to create their own society, based on the rules that they found appropriate."

"Seriously? Who were they?"

Harmon remained silent, not because he didn't know the answer, but the answer was not of a kind that everyone could understand even an ounce.

"It doesn't matter who they are. The point is, freedom as you express it everyday, is something that is derived from having some kind of limitation or being imprisoned in some manner, be it spiritual or physical. You must be restricted, enslaved, before you can experience the idea known as 'true freedom'. Many people take it for granted, being assured it will always be there. There is always someone there to control you, to give you the illusion of freedom, when really, a higher power could be pulling your strings, dictating your every action, and you wouldn't know whether your free or imprisoned. It's a shame really, that this is the kind lives we have been 'given'"

"But why? What would make you think like that?" He asked.

"Because I know what it's like to be under control by someone, despite having 'freedom'. No matter how far you move from their chains, there is always someone else to take their role. I've come to learn that through harsh means my friend. Harsher than you can even imagine."

Fisk looked at his friend with unsure eyes. Slightly fearing his next words, of what they would be, and what they would mean to him especially. He put on his best poker face and continued the game, but still having the wandering on his mind.

"Harmon. Just who are you exactly?"

At the moment, Harmon paused the movement of his hands, and ponder over what had been said. His hand rested on his chin, as his friend waited for his response. The warehouse grew even more quiet, with the various expired and abandoned contents remained in their present places, with age slowly consuming them. Not even the echo which had carried as a sound was made no effort to float around them, not even with the creaking roof that had looked ready to fall down on itself. It was the silence that the both of them preferred. The thinking mans silence.

Finally, after about a minute of thinking about it, Harmon took his hand off of his chin, and looked at Fisk with a curious expression. Not one that contained eternal sadness, depression, but one that was what noone would expect him to make. A smile. But not a real one.

 **"At the moment, I am a high school student."**

The two exchanged stares with each other, with neither of them saying a word. Whether or not that was the answer that he was expecting, Fisk gave quick nod. ensuring what he heard was indeed correct.

"Yup. That's a 'you' answer alright."

Harmon looked at him inquisitively

"Oh? Have me all figured out do you?"

He shook his head.

"Nope. Not in the slightest. I've known you for three months, and you still seem like stranger to me. There's nothing that I can figure out about you."

"There is nothing I can figure out about you as well."

Fisk raised an eyebrow.

"Bullshit."

"I'm quite serious."

"Look, it's bad enough that you're beating my ass in chess, a game you obviously know I'm not good at based on what I got on the science quiz last week. I don't need you telling me that I'm a blank slate to an egghead like you."

"Well...I wouldn't say a blank slate, rather you're difficult to read, especially from your actions."

"My actions? Like what kind of underwear I put on in the morning? That kind of thing drives you nuts huh?"

*sigh* Of all of the examples, you had to pick the one that was the most grotesque."

"Had to get you off my case somehow."

Harmon chuckles.

"This is exactly what I mean. Unable to read." Fisk only remained there with a still confused expression.

"You're freaking weird dude."

"That is to be expected."

"If you say so."

Before long, the chess pieces started to move on the board again, as if time stood still for the two.

"So, what time is our 'guest' coming along?" Harmon asked. Fisk then checked his watch and smiled with glee. And as if right on cue, the faint sounds of police sirens went off in the far background from their location.

"Sounds like he's making his way here right now."

* * *

"Hold it right there!" A mouse cat shouted out at his perp a burly black dog, as he chased him down the block. The dog was carrying large bag strapped around his shoulder with a .45 grasped in his hand.

"Get the fuck off my back you pigs!" The perp mowed down everyone that was coming into his running path. Sirens could be heard going off about halfway from the previous intersection. About two cars were in pursuit of the criminal. Radio chatter could be heard buzzing thoughout air.

"This is Unit Three! Currently pursuing adult male! Black dog. Large build! Wearing leather jacket with denim jeans carrying a satchel of illegal contraband heading down Franklin and Malley! Requesting backup!" The cars began to fastly approach the perp by the curb.

"Shit! Fuck you!" He then pulled out his gun and fired off four rounds at the cars. Two hit the windshield of the first, and the other two hit the front tires of the second one and blowing out the rubber, causing it drift heavily off of its course and into a nearby store and explode. Everyone on the street ducked down in reaction to the sudden gunfire. The cop increased his running speed in order to catch up to him, also to avoid using his weapon in the middle of a civillian zone. Seeing that the cop was about twenty feet away from catching up to him, the perp banked a quick left down an alleyway in order to shake off his pursuer.

Along the path, he took another quick right in a nearby door after running a few feet down. He ended up going into the kitchen of a resturant, being greeted by bewildered cooks, who all looked at him with cowardly and wandering eyes.

"Hey! Who are you?!" One of the cooks shouted out, only to be responded with a gunshot to head, causing blood and various amounts of brain matter to splatter all of over the walls.

"Oh my GOD!" The other cook screamed out in fear. The perp then held up the gun to the rest of the whimpering cooks who then all held up their hands following his complete demands, as he began to wave it around.

"Now if you don't wanna end up like your buddy on the ground there, you'll shut the hell up and let me go about my business! I got six rounds left in this thing, and there's four of you! I'm sure you can do the math on that one!" He slowly backed up tthrough the door that he entered. He then continued down the long alleyway, which had seemed to go on for another block or so. The sounds of the sirens grew even louder at every intersection that he came across. He turned right at the next one coming up, and then a left at the next, and then another right. No matter where he went, he only seemed to catch that familiar blare. He then stopped in his tracks and cocked his head at every path that he was taking."Dammit! This place is like a goddamn maze!" He then took a breath, and checked the ammo left in the magazine of the gun he was carrying. He clicked his tongue in disappointment."Man, six shots my ass. I only got two left to my name. The perp put the magazine back into its place, loaded the chamber, and continued to run down the alley.

The faint noise of footsteps other than his soon reached his ears. He held his gun closer and prepared for the worse. His breathing became more hoarse, and the impact of his steps more heavy. Even his grip on his bag had become more intense the more he thought about being caught. "No way these fuckers are getting this..." The perp took a quick left down another intersection, only to find two cops waiting around the corner. As soon as they came within eyesight, he was already heading down another path, but it didn't take long for them to notice his change in direction.

"Hold it right there! You're not getting away you bastard!" The cop that shouted out took out his gun and started to open fire. He let off about three rounds toward the target, all of them barely missing their marks. He twitched out of how close the bullets came to hitting him, but he kept on running regardless.

Pretty soon, the perp came into contact with a steel fence, and quickly climbed over it. He then felt a sharp pain in his leg as he scaled over it. On closer inspection, the top of the fence was littered in barbed wire, which had scuffed past his right leg, causing him to fall down to his knees upon descent. The two cops that had been following him had not been mindful of the distance between them and the perp, and thus couldn't climb the fence in time to catch him. The cop on the right then recognized the passageway that the perp was heading for and began heading in the opposite direction.

"Wait, where are you going?!" His partner shouted out.

"I'll cut him off at the next intersection! You call for backup! Tell radio that he's headed for the warehouse on Caprice and Virtue!" His partner nodded as he ran off in the other direction, while the partner in question took out his walkie talkie and turned on the communication channel for his unit.

"This is Private Bovell! Suspect is heading down the alleyway leading to the abandoned warehouse on Caprice Avenue and Virtue Street! My partner is in pursuit! Requesting backup!"

A few seconds later, a calm and gruff voice could be heard on the other line.

"That won't be necessary Private. Radio your partner and tell him to pull back."

"But commander, the suspect is wounded! We could catch him indefinietly now that his speed has decreased! We know where he is heading to!"

"The rest of the squad is still rounding up the rest of the members of the Blue Vipers especially after the sting. We currently have a fix on your location, but it would take us too long to mobilize in order to reach that destination. By that time, injury or not, the perp will have gotten away by then. Follow my orders and call your partner back to the rendezvous point on Williams Street. There's something in the warehouse that will assure the suspect will come to us."

"But sir?! We can-"

"Do I need to repeat myself to you Private?" The commander cut him off.

"...I...No Commander Evrett..."

"Good. Then get back here ASAP."

The cop then turned off his radio and began to reach out to his partner on the other channel to follow through with his superiors orders.'What is this is something at the warehouse?' He thought to himself.

...

Harmon had moved his rook five spaces forward, taking Fisks last bishop, leaving only his king and pawn in the wake. Harmon still had the majority of his pieces, but was pretty much taking his pacing of the game's remainder slow.

"Ughh, seriously?" Fisk shook his head in disbelief.

"Care to make this any more easier for me?"

"*sigh* Can't we just arm wrestle or something?"

"Oh? Something else you want to lose at?"

"How could you say I would lose, if we've never arm wrestled before?"

"Simple. You let your emotions drive your actions instead of thinking of things logically and arbitraily first. What was the phrase? Look before you leap?"

"Hey, it's a whole lot better from just sitting around with my thumb up my ass like you do all the time."

"I plan accordingly to how a situation turns out. Having patience is a part of any good execution. You must know how to wait for opportunity to strike and come to you."

"Yeah, and how often does that work out for you?"

All of a sudden, the window that they were sitting in front had shattered into a thousand pieces making Fisk jump up slightly, though Harmon didn't move an inch. A moving figure could be seen floating through the glass upon the breaking, soon landing onto the solid and dusty ground of the warehouse. The perp had shakingly got up from the floor and dusted himself off, and scanned the area in front of him for any disturbances.

"Finally! I lost those fucking pigs! It's about time!" He said in a prideful snarl."And this looks like the perfect hiding spot...I should be able to stay clear away for a few hours while it cools down out there."

"So...you want that answer in chronological or effective order?" The perp snapped around in a quick motion with his gun in hand at the sound of young Harmon's voice.

"Well hot damn! He came here like you said and everything. Maybe sitting on your ass and using your brain does do some good." Fisk remarked while nudging his friends arm.

The dog perp shook the gun at both of the young cats.

"Hey! What the fuck are you kids doing here?! You stay back or I'll fucking shoot! I fucking mean it!"

He waved his weapon around to spread the fear into the young teens, but neither of them seemed to bat an eye towards his intention, and remained in their seats.

"Hey! Where did you get that from? The toy shop down on Smif and Wessun?" Fisk chided.

"Shut the fuck up kid! Don't try to be funny, or I'll let this thing pop off! I fucking mean it! Just fucking push and see what the fuck happens!"

"Sheesh...don't you know any other words besides fuck? I'm starting to think your father was one hell of a drinker..."

"Listen kid! I don't know if you've been paying attention in school, but I have a gun! Guns shoot! Guns kill! Especially smart ass teengagers like you that don't know when to shut up."

"Holy crap, he actually said something other than fuck in his sentences! Now that's what I call progress!"

The perp growled loudly and increased his grip on the weapon, holding steadfast to his last two bullets and aiming them down at Fisk and Harmon.

"You're really pushing it aren't you?! I'll make this thing fly! I'll do it!"

"Then do it." Harmon said, leading the gunner to make a confused expression.

"What'd you say?!" He responded irrationally.

Harmon stepped off of the crate that was his seat, and slowly approached the dog with the gun, now aimed at his face. Fisk watched in on what was happening and started to tense up.

"Harmon..." His friend then held extended his hand to him, giving a sign of 'I'll be alright'. The black cat walked even closer to the gunman, not exhibiting any forms of fear or hesitation in his steps.

He brushed past the bangs of his long messy white hair and chuckled.

"If you really meant to shoot to kill, you would have done it by now. If you have killed, it was probably done out of pure shock. Plus, you're not exactly what I picture as a gunman that's in control of his situation."

"I-I'm not kidding! I killed a guy with this gun! Shot his fucking brains out right in front of his friends! I'll do the same to you too!"

"Exactly my point. If you were really thinking of being in control of the situation, you would eliminate all witnesses that come your way with a gun, not just with the first person that comes within range of you reign of supposed terror. You really were not thinking to make a smooth getaway, were you?"

"I-I'm warning you...I'll..."

"Eliminate me and my friend, getting off scott free? Sorry, but's it's not going to be that simple. For a third rate drug pusher such as you anyway, the shit that you spew from your mouth isn't even enough to be gunk under my nails, Alex King. Leader of the Blue Viper gang."

"H-how do you?!"

"How do I know you ask? We've been following your activities for about a week now. It was especially helpful getting such effective hints and statements from your agents that you placed in the neighborhood to expand you business ventures. After providing them incentives to talk, they gave locations of local dealers that were in the town, and eventually we were able to track down down their suppliers by simply following the different trade routes. Several in suburban area, even on in the metropolitan district. One by one, we started to make sting operations on each of their safe houses, clearing out everything related to your little gang, phone numbers, content details, hidden bank accounts that extended overseas. The numbers at which we found such places were astronomical. I must say, not bad for a bunch of newsboys straight out of Mississippi. You were able to raise over $150,000 in just three months after being established as an official underground group, selling of course...this" Harmon then pulled a small vial out of his pocket and waved it around to the shaking gang leader.

"I was honestly intrigued by the contents of this drug, LEX. Containing 40% arsenic, 15% ketamine, 30% adamantine, and just a hint of several dissociatve anesthetics, including Methorphan, Metaphit, and even Chloroform. Amazing that the body doesn't disintegrate from the inside upon consuming this. This makes PCP looks like Kool Aid in comparison. And you were able to transport 50K of this stuff in three other states besides this we found that out, all we had to do was provide the chemical orientation, and locations to the police department, so they could shut down those locations officaly, cornering you like a caged rodent. We did all the work, they were just the insurance as you could probably tell from that riveting chase they gave you."

"W-what? I-it was just you two brats?! You're the reason my resources have been getting cut off?! Why my buddies have been ending up in jail?! What the hell did I ever do to you?!""

"You decided to make a move in our town. Let's just say we didn't take kindly to that." Fisk said.

The perps face began to twitch uncontrollably. He was teeming with rage and frustration that two teengagers were able to see through and put a staple in his operation. His hands gripped the gun, and finger lingered on the trigger as he began to push it down.

"I'LL KILL YOU FUCKING KIDSSSS!"

As his finger curled around the trigger he fired off a shot from the weapon.

Seeing the bullet fly in his field of view, Harmon quickly sprang into action in, ducking the range of fire, and flawlessly dodging trajectory of the bullet itself, soon ending up into the perps space in just one step, delivering a hard elbow to his solar plexus, causing him to feel numbness in a his muscles for a short while, then striking a nerve in the arm that held the gun, making him drop the weapon and pushing upward on the joint of forearm with his palm, breaking the bone, causing the cracking noise to echo throughout the warehouse. He then took that same arm, locking it and flipping him in a twisting motion, throwing him straight on the ground in an over the shoulder toss, all in one single and continuous motion. As soon as he landed on the ground, Harmon grabbed the gun out of midair and pointed it towards the gang member's head, as he laid there writhing in pain and fear.

"ARGHHH! OH GOD! MY ARM! MY FUCKING ARM!"

Harmon formed a grin on his face that spread from cheek to cheek.

"Now I'm holding the gun. And unlike you, I won't hesitate to pull it."

Fisk calmly walked over to Harmon and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Wow. Two seconds! You beat your record!"

"*sigh* Are you still timing me on how fast I can perform my takedowns?"

"Until you show me how to do that, yes."Harmon shook his head in amazement, then brought his attention back to the matter at hand."So, what do we do with this loser?"

"Comannder Everett should be here with his men any minute. We told him we would have this scum withheld within the hour. They have enough evidence to put him away for life. I have walkie talkie in my bag that's on a private channel with him. Contact him and tell him we have his man."

"Got it." Fisk then walked over to where they were sitting with their now ruined chess board to grab Harmon's bag, reaching to get the walkie talkie. Before he turned it on, his eyes shot open in realization."Ummm, should we tell him that the guys arm is broken?"

Harmon pondered it for a moment, as he soon realized that he might have gone too far.

"I wouldn't..."

"You know he's gonna find out. The guy's arm looks like a limp noodle."

"He probably won't think much of it anyway. It's not like he can dock our pay."

 **Victorian** **District Police Department**

 **6:45 PM**

Both Harmon and Fisk stepped outside of the precint in a moody fashion, continuously sighing and grumbling as they walked down the street with a handful of officers staring at them in astonishment. Fisk threatned to bash their skull with the pipe of a nearby pickup truck, however none of them seemed to take a threat from a fresh faced teen cat too it was obviously against the law to threaten an officer of the law, the two boys were a special case that granted them free reign to do whatever they pleased, but that didn't provide immunity from getting arrested according to Commander Everret.

They strolled down the street until they came across Forsyth Park. The various amounts of crowds scattered around the area, along the beautiful landscape complimented by water fountain that housed several couples and even businessmen that sat around its'circle. As they walked by the fountain, viewing their reflection, Fisk took his hands out of his pockets and put his hands over his head and let out a huge sigh.

"Told you he would dock our pay!" Fisk told Harmon, who was just as upset as Fisk, but didn't express as outright.

"Honestly. $150 docked for one broken arm, the structure was still intact when I pushed up on the joint. It doesn't even take an orthopedist to fix that!" Fisk raised an eyebrow and laughed at his friends sudden but calm outburst."What is it that you find so amusing?"

"Hahaha! So the high and mighty cool Harmon Jones can express some emotion once in a while? That's a surprise. I never thought you could get angry."

"I am not angry! I am simply venting enclosed frustrations due to inhibitions of our pay because of some troublesome thing that they can correct themselves!"

"Yeeeppp, you're angry." Fisk sneered in amusement at his friend.

"Fisk Black, if you do not stop this persistent badgering, I will use you to vent my frustrations."

"Hehe. I welcome that challenge. Now you know how I feel when you speak Webster at me."

"It is no fault of mine that your feeble mind can't understand basic vocabulary. You could do well to at least expand that very aspect of yourself. It will behoove you greatly in the future."

"Ughhh, don't say that. You sound like my sister. She lectures day and night about that junk, her and my mother. How I should 'apply myself' and try to 'develop a productive mindset'. I'd like to think I'm turning out to be a pretty decent member of society!" Fisk says while beating his chest proudly.

"Many would hesitate to agree with you on that matter."

"You're the only here, so it's only got to be your opinion. Besides, you're no prize yourself, you fake ass Johnny Cochran."

"Haha. Fair enough. But could you care to use some more eloquent or literary terms to describe me. Such as Sherlock, or Nancy Drew, or for cultural references Kogoro Akechi?"

"See, you were supposed to be giving me ammo on that front."

"I thought I was?"

"You weren't! At all!"

"I always thought that those three were well known fictional detectives, and that being called one of them as a derogatory term would be embarrassing for that person? Was I wrong in my research?"

"What ivy league school magazine did you dig that crap up from? Also, did I hear you right? You say you're a detective now huh? " Fisk looked at Harmon with a raised eyebrow."Look at you! Our first official case as junior handymen, and you're already getting a big nose."

"It's better to progress with confidence in the face of success than just looking forward to just the results." Harmon stuck his chest out, blowing hot air out of his nose.

"Yeahhhh, it's clear to me you have a pretty high opinion of yourself after that little stint."

"It is as I said. Freedom to choose, no? I choose to view myself in such a grandeur light."

"I thought you said you didn't believe in freedom?"

As Fisk as that question, Harmon's expression changed into a more focused one. He stopped walking to look his hand. It began to form into a fist as his face became more intense.

"I don't. I believe in its concept, but I don't take its ideals heart as fact, or to the point where I can use it for every action. If it appears that I am, know that I utilize the idea of freedom as one uses a hammer to build a fence. The one building it has no idea if the fence will turn out the way he wants it to, but the concept on how to build it and what it will probably look like is in his mind as tool to get to that point. I still believe that some force controls my actions, and that no matter how much I say I'm in control of my life, I still feel someone is at my helms controlling everything that I do, no matter how enlightened I am about anything."

"Harmon..."

Fisk looked out at his friend as his head loomed over his shoulders with his sad expression. 'Was he suffering?' Fisk thought to himself. Was there someway that he could help him? But how could he? There was still so much that Fisk didn't know about his friend, including where he came from before he came to live here. He's attempted to ask, but Harmon had dodged the questions every time.

Suddenly, Harmon's expression changed to a more lighter tone.

"Oh? Are you beginning to show concern for me?"

"Nope. Just thinking what mom is cooking for dinner tonight. I hope it's potatoes."

"Hmm, I'm rather curious as well. I'm beginning to develop a fondness for Shelia's home cooking. There's a subtle intimacy hidden in her food."

Fisk's eyes shot open.

"Dude. Did you just call my mom by her first name?! And what makes you think you're coming over for dinner?!"

"Why wouldn't I? As I recall, your mother loves it when I visit."

"That doesn't mean you're automatically invited!" Harmon begins to walk off nonchalantly as Fisk yells at him. He turns around and marches behind him."Seriously! Harmon! You're not coming over for dinner man! It's bad enough with Lucy, but my mom does not need to join the mix!"

"I wonder if I should stay the night as well. I've seen Shelia in the lingerie store these past couple of days."

 _ **"HARMON!"**_

The two then walk off into background towards the bustop, being greeted by none other than the Georgia sunset.

 **Chapter 1 END**

 **Author's Note; Thank you so much for reading! Please follow and favorite, and please leave a comment. It really helps me grow as a writer and a person. See you next release, and remember, One Love!**


	2. Episode 2:Blue Diamond Blues Part 1

**Outside of Macon, Georgia**

 **May 7th 198X 2:25 AM**

 **One year ago**

 _ **The car, a blue and simple looking sedan, streamed and highlined rightby the railings of the highway as sparks flied off of the metalic skin. It's uncontrollable speed zoomed by uncoming traffic, although more than a few were trying to avoid it's possible carnage. The car had definitely seen better days from how dented and scraped the hood looked, and the tires on the left side had compltely been missing their hupcaps. The only alluring detail had been the inspicable had been the letters covered in a scorching flame around it, spelled out "FOR SASHA".**_

 _ **The car had managed to keep avoiding traffic as it continued down the highway in a speedy demonstration. The driver had seemed worst for wear. A rather young looking mouse with glasses dressed in a sloppy button shirt. It had been covered in tear stains, along with a white letter tucked deeply in his breast pocket. His breathing was heavy, sporadic. Eyes dilated as the tried to make sense everything in front of him, with his hands accompanying what ever seemed to be in his way on the steering wheel.**_

 _ **"This...is all...for her! All of this!" He kept repeating that same sentence for at least ten times to himself. Occasionally, he took his eyes off of the road to view his face in the mirror. Noticing his tear and snot drowned face, he took one hand off of the wheel to wipe his face. His hand then slipped when reaching his face, accidentally knocking his glasses off, landing on the car floor.**_

 _ **"My glassess!" With his corrections off, his vision became heavily blurred, unable to spot anything but shifting figures in front of him, accompanied by the blaring noise of car horns each time he tried to steadily tried to keep his hands on the wheel."No, nonononono!"**_

 _ **He felt the balance of his control of the wheel suddenly shift to the right as he heard the unmistakable noise of a truck sound of in his ears. The car suddenly barely swerved out of its direction at the last second, scratching most of the detail from coming into close contact with its body. The car started to drift off of the lane that he was presently in. Unknowing to him, he was starting to come up to a very sharp left turn less than five meters ahead, that would have required him at least few several feet to brake into it. He hasn't taken his foot of the accelerator for at least two miles now.**_

 _ **"I...can...do this! If I do this...it will be over!" He yelled out as tears rolled down his cheeks once more. He unbuttoned his shirt as sweat rolled down his neck and his breathing grew more heavy."No! I can...I can't...I can fucking do it!" That very statement of non-assuredness rolld and rolled continously on his tongue. A million thoughts at once tried to push him forward as he dodged incoming traffic. Feeling his grip slip off the wheel, his right side made contact with the safety railing of the freeway, grinding against the sheet of metal until its mirror reached a snag into a sign, knocking it off clean. Soon, his car came up to the turn, with him having no intention of slowing down.**_

 _ **Despite not knowing what was in front of him, he slowly began to close his eyes, even taking his hands of the wheel."I...this is...all for you..."He quietly muttered under his breath. Reaching into his brest pocket, he took out a picture of a young and attractive female poodle, with striking white fur and fluffy shoulder length hair along with her baby blue eyes dressed up in a flawless wedding dress, standing beside him. He knew the contents of the picture like the back of his hand with every detail memorized to the utmost. The most striking was the unusual blue diamond necklace that complemented her beautiful appearance though it was unusual in design, having an almost handcrafted figure to its shape compared to the average of the well known jewel.**_

 _ **"Linda..." He whispered the poodles name as his eyes closed."Everything...has been for you..."**_

 _ **He felt a huge force of impact of hit the front of his car as his body was thrown forward into the windshield, cracking the glass as the car flew over the safety railing, and began to tumble to the forest floor.**_

* * *

 _ **Episode 2:Blue Diamond Blues**_ __

 **A week later**

 **May 10th 198X 7:24 AM**

 **Savannah** _ **,**_ **Georgia**

 **Harmon and Fisk's Office(a.k.a. Fisk's Room)**

"Okay, give me another one." Fisk called out to Harmon as he laid sprawled out on his bed, reading the latest issue of Detective Comics. While he wasn't a particular fan of the series, he felt he could rely on it as a source of research on how to be a great detective himself, along with a various other sources recommened to him by Harmon. So far, he has read, none of them, with the stack sitting near his desk.

"I've already given you seven so far...And so far you, you've gotten all of them incorrect."Harmon replied, while attempting to solve the last months newspapers crossword puzzle, as he had already solved todays, and all of the previous ones leading up to it.

"C'mon. Who knows, I might surprise you."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"Just give me the damn question already."

"*sigh* Fine then. Let's see..."He thought to himself, placing his finger on his head."In the year 1800, The United States Government had moved it's newly constructed capital building to Washington D.C. from what previous city?"

Fisk strained his head in order to figure out the answer, even placing the comic down to think about it.

"Hold on...I know this one! It's the government right! The United States Government."

"I'm so pleased at your ability to recall already spoken dialogue. Kindergartners would be jealous at you."

"Shut up the hell up will ya?" A book then came flying at the back of Harmon's head, which he deftly dodged."I'm thinking..."

"Is that what you call it?" Harmon said under his breath.

After a few minutes of pondering the answer, with steam practically rising from his head, he gave what he thought was the answer."I got it! It was Boston!"

Harmon dropped his pencil in shock and slowly turned around

"Boston? That's your answer?" He asked him with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, it makes perfect sense yeah? Most of the fights for Americans freedom happened in Massachusetts, with the British. Then you have the British Tea Party, which was basically those colonist guys giving them the big middle finger on taxes and what not. Plus the Declaration of Independence WAS signed their, and the founding fathers made their awesome as hell debut that they won't put with the red coats crap any longer, and spread that idea to the other colonies and stuff!" Fisk stuck his chest out and stood on top of his bed with his nose in the air."So yeah! It has to be Boston! It's the city with the richest history, and that's where all of the cool shit happened! Totally Boston! It's Boston right!" He yelled as he put his hands up in the air with swelled pride, as if waiting for a round of applause from someone.

Harmon looked at the confident Fisk in silence, slowly shaking his head.

"I'm...impressed."

"Whoa! You're giving **me** props?! That's awesome as hell! I always thought history was my worst subject, but I guess as I just late bloomer and I didn't even realize it!"

"You...are beyond a doubt...one of the intellectually inept people I've ever met...in fact, so much so, I can't even get mad at you. I don't think anyone could for that matter." He snickered.

"Dude...did you just call me dumb?"

"I prefer the term charming. Don't you?"

"Wait...the question was...wrong?!"

"As grandstanding as that argument was just know to convince me it was Boston, you couldn't have been more wrong. Before 1800 and in the inbetween years of 1700's, The capital of the United States was actually in Philadelphia. And technically, it was a trick question. The British had attacked the surrounding territories of the capital, and the government had actually moved to several different cities and states, such as Lancaster, York, Baltimore, New York, Princeton and others before finally settling in Washington D.C."

Fisk stood there in pure shock as Harmon finished his explanation. His chest then receded back into his normal stature, and he slumped back onto his bed.

"So...it was wrong?" He mumbled.

"Yep."

"It wasn't Boston."

"Indeed."

"I'm an idiot."

"Possibly."

"This history test... I'm gonna fail it?"

"Most likely."

"AWWWW DAMN IT!" Fisk yelled out as he drops back onto his bed, flailing his arms around like a child. Then a knocking sound from downstairs hitting the middle of the room.

"Fisk Black! WILL YOU STOP ALL THAT YELLING BOY?! IT'S EARLY IN THE MORNING!" said a womanly voice coming from downstairs. He flinched upon hearing it, and immediately stopped his sissy fit to sit perfectly still.

"Sorry Mom!" Fisk said in his usual laid back closed the newspapers cross word puzzle he had been working on for the past ten minutes, and neatly folded and placed on top of a towering stack of them near the his bookcase. Though in truth, this was all to cure his boredom into Fisk's cram study session for their United States History test in fourth period, which had been going on since an hour ago. Though most cram sessions translate into all nighters, Fisk suggested that the information would be ingested easier if done just a few minutes into waking up from a good nights far,the theory has proven ineffective.

"I must say, Shelia still has such a titillating voice to listen to, even this early in the morning."

"Seriously? Now it's her early rising voice that you find attractive about her? Oh brother..." Fisk said shaking his head."Also, could you not creep me out by referring to my mother by her first name?"

"What's wrong with that? Hearing a woman's voice first thing in the morning is supposed to be one of a man's greatest pleasures when waking up."

"Yeah, or their greatest fear."

"Hahaha. This we can agree on."

"But man, I almost want to see you ask her out on a date, just to see her shoot you down like a spaghetti western. Just BOOM! Rejected! That would be a sight to see right there! To see playboy Harmon in his downfall!"

"Is that an invitation my friend?"

"Is what an invitation? To get shatted upon the wiles of the single mother? Sure be my guest. Just let me record it when you do."

"As much as I love a challenge, and as much I just adore proving you wrong with anything, I'm afraid I'll have to pass this time around."

"You that scared huh?"

"No, I just don't think me being the step father of two children the same age as me, is a rather bizarre looking picture to muster don't you think?"

"You bastard!" Fisk said jokingly.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Harmon said sticking his tongue out.

The two started to roughhouse with each other for a few minutes before settling down on the bed next to each other.

Tossing the books to the side, Fisk brought his hands together and said,

"All right! It's break time!"Deciding to lighten the mood and relax.

"Break time? We've barely started an hour ago."

"Which is why this is a highlight break hour. Every famous cramming session has at least an hour break to make up for the previous hour."

"You would know this from experience wouldn't you? An expert perhaps in such light studying habits"

"A great master has to have his secrets man."

"A supreme master at a destructive craft. It suits you rather well."

"Oh shut up. Hey! Why don't you get out those candle sticks you got from that Jamaican guy yesterday?"

"They're called incenses. And it just so happens I brought them with me."Harmon took out some incense from his bag and lit it, hanging it off the top shelf of the bookcase."I have to admit, he was a rather curious fellow. His music aside, he had an odd fixation with freshly squeezed cow milk, even to the point where he uses it as currency."

"Why does he need cow milk?" Fisk asked.

"The most curious thing is, I didn't even bother to ask him, when I purchased the sticks from him."

Fisk awkwardly stared at Harmon."Why do you **have** cow milk?"

"...You ask too many questions..." Harmon quietly said as he shoved Fisk aside on the bed to make room for him, to which they started to roughhouse once more. Before long, they both were laid out on the bed completely indisposed., while breathing in the smell from the incense.

From the smell, it was lavender flavor. The boys stared up at the white ceiling, basking in the new aroma taking sighs and breaths while the scent went around the room.

"How are we doing on time?" Fisk asked.

"I believe we're still good for thirty more minutes."Harmon replied.

"*sigh* That's good to know..." Fisk said as he started to drift off.

"So much for studying for the important test eh?"

"Awww, it's only Robinson. I bet you he'll let me make it up as long as you promise a batch powdered donuts will be in his mailbox in the next hour."

"Quite the lipid individual isn't he?"

"Yup. Don't know what his wife sees in him."

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"What? Even you can't figure this one out?"

"Indeed."

They sat there idle for about five minutes, while hearing the various noises around them, such as the continuous cars driving past the house, the annoying, yet soothing chirping of the birds near the window that put them into a brief state of bliss.

"Hey, Harmon." Fisk tapped Harmon with his elbow, who was starting to drift off himself.

"Hmm?"

"Have you noticed how quiet it's been?"

"Quiet? At 7:30 in the morning? Color me shocked."

"Not that. Just how quiet it's been in general. I mean, it's been like a week since we took down that gang leader. Normally in the gangster movies, even after the boss gets taken out, someone takes his place. I mean, it's like, the hiearchy or whatever right? "

"Fisk..."

"I'm just saying that we should probably be expecting danger any second now. And instead of just waiting here for it..."

"I swear, if you say what you're about to say..."

"C'mon dude! We're a freaking two man army! We just took down Billy Thompsons lunch money stealing posse a few days ago, our two to their ten! All of those jerk offs landed in the hospital breathing through a tube! We exposed an insurance fraud scheme! And a week before that, we took out one of the biggest drug pushers in the tri state area in just one shot, where cops couldn't even catch him! We're 3-0 right now brother! We're on a roll. I say whatever other gang is out there, we take the fight to them!"

" **Hahaha! What is about boys that makes them so simple minded about everything?"** Suddenly a feminine voice came out by the room door

Both of the boys stood attention to the voice. It was a rather curvy looking black and white cat leaning on the hinge on the door, dressed in a yellow crop top t-shirt with jean short and classic sneakers with thigh highs, complemented by her long flowing and silky white hair, piercing green eyes, all brought to life by her simple yet alluring smile. This is Lucy Black. Fisk's twin sister. She goes to the same school as Fisk and Harmon though she attends a different homeroom.

Her appearance caused Fisk's face to turn sour.

"What do you want?"

"Mom told me to tell you boys that dinner is ready and-what the..." She then started to sniff the air."Why does your room smell like that funny cow milk guy behind the school?"

"Trade secret, mind your business." Fisk snapped his sister.

"Trade secret? Are boys still playing detective? Seriously? How old are you guys again?"

"How many times do I have to tell you and mom? We're not playing, we are dealing with real bad guys here! Big evil dudes, with guns...and mustaches!"

"Mustaches?" Lucy raised her eyebrow.

"Don't you watch cartoons? The mustaches extenuates the evilness and statuses as assholes that do bad things?"

"Extenuates? Have you been teaching my brother words again Harmon?"

"What can I say? He catches on quick."

"Yea, Mom and I have never been so proud of him."Lucy said while sneering at her brother.

"Uhh...guys, I'm right here?!"

"Yeah, and?" Lucy snapped back.

"All right listen here-"

"Not to interrupt this sibling dispute." Harmon held up his hand."But if I may ask, what did you mean in that earlier statement Lucy? The one referring to simple mindedness?"

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to lump you in that pile Harmon."

"No harm done at all, but I think you might be onto something here. A fact that I was trying to explain to your brother, but fear it might come through one ear and out the other in his case. So perhaps, you may try to expand furhter on it?"

Lucy put her finger on her lips, pondering over her words.

"Well, I just meant that you guys shouldn't get to hot headed because you busted a few crooks. I don't think that there was anything else in there that you could look at."

"No, that's exactly the point I was trying to make. I couldn't have put it any other way myself. Thank you Lucy for that display."

"Oh! *giggles* You're mighty welcome there Harmon! It's nothing really! It's not every day, I got asked a favor from you, so I'm glad I could help out."Lucy said, slightly blushing red.

"Indeed you did. I may count on you even more in the future because of this."

"I'll do my best to meet your expectations then."

"I've no doubt you will."

Both of them started to laugh a little at the exchange. Fisk looked over the whole thing, in disgust.

"Uhh, dude. Can you try and not 'work your magic' on my sister while I'm literally right here? I don't want her to be sorely disappointed in what she gets aiming for that prize." Suddenly a strike went across the back of his head."OWWW! What the hell?!"

"You idiot!" Lucy said with an irritated expression.

"What did I do?!" Fisk said while rubbing his head.

"None of your business! Just hurry up and come down for breakfast!" Lucy then turned around blowing air through her nose, slamming the door behind her.

"What's her problem?!" Fisk, still confused at the situation turned to Harmon behind him, who had stood up off the bed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen without saying a word."What's **YOUR** problem?!"

 **Later:**

 **7:40 AM**

 **En route to school.**

Harmon, Fisk and Lucy walked side by side down the street, without uttering so much as a word. Stuck in the middle, Fisk looked between the two of them in silence and sighed at the current situation. By the time they reached the busstop,he attempted to open his mouth to fill the void.

"Hey Lucy!" Suddenly another voice filled the void, stealing Fisk's thunder. Across the street, they saw a young mouse girl with giant glasses and flowing blonde hair, waving cheerfully to Lucy who waved back.

"Hey girl! There's Liz, I'll see you guys at school!" She then ran across the street.

"You're supposed to look both ways before you cross!" Fisk yelled out.

"Bite me jerk!" Lucy then walked on ahead with her friend Elizabeth, who had been neighbors with the blacks ever since they were children. As the two went on, Harmon and Fisk stood there with each other.

"Man...she probably hates me..."He turns to Harmon."You think my sister hates me?"

"I'm not the best person to ask that question, unfortunately..." Harmon answered with pure disinterest, and carefully crossed the street and walked on ahead. Fisk then ran across the street and tapped on his shoulder.

"Hey! Let's take the shortcut today!"

"That's only when we're on our way there a quarter before 7:30. It's fifteen minutes after now."

"It won't matter if we run. C'mon you big nerd! You could use the exercise!" Saying that, Fisk then took a hard left down the street they were walking towards to access another route.

"That's one aspect I'm certain I'm not without." Harmon whispered to himself in defiance. He then shook his head and followed after Fisk down the shortcut. The shortcut lead them through a tiny hole through a neighbors wooden fence, letting them out through a straight alleyway that cars usually pass through, and running down the path for about 2-3 meters. Once they reached the end of the pathway, they came out to the street, where there was a metal fence across the street leading into a drainage ditch where it leads into the sewer. They climbed over the fence and ended in the drainage and ran up the canal until they reached a stairway a good 5 meters ahead of them and went upward, leading them into the more busy section of the town, where cars and people could be heard from all directions. After making onto the street, they cut a few corners here and there before making onto Main street, which was home to an entire strip of various shops, lots, and other businesses, both legal and illegal.

The two soon relaxed as they started to stroll down the street. Harmon then viewed his watch on his right hand, with it reading 7:50.

"Sooo?" Fisk asked him eagerly.

"Not bad. Only five minutes this time."

"Only five minutes! Yes! Told you that hole through Old man Finch's yard was a time killer."

"Yes, only because his son's weren't playing rugby fused football with his pillows attached to their bodies."

"*sigh*Those guys need better hobbies. What are they now, like 23?"

"Still living at home with their parents? What a joy that must be..."

"Oh dude! Don't say that, can you imagine me at that age still living with my mom and her still making me breakfast every morning, and me complaining that I like eggs scrambled, not sunny side up?"

"I...think that's the last thing you should be worried about in my opinion..."

"Yeah? Well it's still a worry nonetheless. I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it."

"Clearly you have your priorities in order. Excuse my rude comment."

"Okay...you obviously have something to say to me, otherwise, you would be more enthusiastic with the worst case scenario of my future."

"Worst case scenario? Quite the imagination for the future you have there."

Fisk then stopped Harmon as they were walking down the street, pulling a serious look on his face.

"Harmon dude. Seriously, what's wrong? Did what my sister say to you really bug you that much?"

"There are few things in this world that could offend me. A well spoken woman is hardly one of them."

"You didn't seem to happy about what she said when you asked her about it."

"Truth doesn't always equate to happiness I'm afraid."

"Truth, what do you mean?"

Harmon then swiped Fisk's hand off of his shoulder, clearing his throat, and putting his hands in his pocket. He then pulled out a match, and lit it on the sidewalk, and held it up to Fisk.

"What do you see before you?"

"A match...It burns things."

"Quite. And what do matches eventually do when they meet their opposition, such as water or..."He then blows out the match, leaving nothing but a burnt tip."Wind for example?"

"They go out?"

"Yes, and if you still had something to burn with them, what would your most logical step be?"

"Getting another match to burn something with?"

"Exactly. No matter how many times your match goes out, if you still have need for fire, you would keep digging in the match box, until one does the job, no matter how many times it goes out."

"Sooooo...what you're saying is...the bad guys we beat up like to use fire a lot."

Harmon rubbed his temples in frustration.

"Remarkably close...The thing about gangs Fisk. The people that we are up against. They all like to play a game called, Numbers. As in, there are only two of us, and the amount of them is almost insurmountable."

"Dude, just get to the point."

"The point is, and the point your sister was trying to make is that this gang leader that we took down. He is only one part of the problem, one symptom of a whole disease. Eventually, there will be other gangs that ascend in the food chain now that one predator is gone from their ranks. There will replacements, others looking to self-promote, make a name for themselves. Bottom line is, taking out one gang leader doesn't mean we've saved this town. It's far from being saved, and we're just two teenagers against a whole city of professional criminals. Doesn't that bother you?"

Silence was exchanged between the two of them for about a minute, with Fisk quietly pondering over the statements given to him by Harmon and Lucy. Knowing that eventually other gangs will seek to replace the leader that they help put in jail, or even come after them for revenge. There was no certain way to know how many of them would be waiting for them, and what tactics they would come after in. Coming after them directly, or even using their loved ones as leverage.

After having all of this in his mind, Fisk gave his answer.

"Nope." He said bluntly.

"Excuse me?" Harmon did a double take on his statement to make sure his hearing was working, as the belief wasn't there for him."Do you understand the gravity of what I just said?"Fisk put his hands behind in his head in a relaxed manner.

"Dude, if I didn't think I was up to it, I wouldn't do it in the first place. If there will be another lackey that takes the place of that gang dude, then I'll take him down too. If another one comes after that one, I'll take him down and his friends until they decide to try something different like come after me directly or give up, either one is fine with me. I'll keep applying the same medicine to the syptom that keeps popping up until the disease is clear out of the system."

"Fisk..."

"I can't I love this city, but I love the people living in it. And I'll take down any asshole, any son of a bitch that thinks they can threaten my mother, my sister, or my friends. I'll lay down my life defending that about me. That's a promise."

He sole dedication to his duty of the guardians that they both made to themselves was enough to move even Harmon. Looking around the state of the town they were living in, it was clear there was some peace that could be seen looking from the outside, but the question was for how long that would last, the boys always asked themselves.

Though he was still rather disquiet over the big picture and what the future might hold, Harmon decided to be content where they are now, borrowing Fisk's optimism. He chuckled and shook his head.

"I honestly can say. You surprise me more and more as I get to know you. I can safely say that I've never met someone with a demeanor like the one you demonstrate to me even now."

"Hey man, I do what I can for myself and my family."

"Indeed you do. I am just now realizing on what an admirable trait that is to have."

Fisk sighed.

"You give me too much credit. I'm just being me with no strings attached to anything. If I see something wrong or someone that I know that's in trouble, I can't stop myself from correcting it. I gotta do something about it."

"The impulsive need to do some good for others. An envious trait to have for those who seek to protect others...or a foolhardy one for those trying to meddle in other people's affairs."

"You're one to talk. I saved you by meddling in your affairs didn't I?" Fisk reminded him of his current position, thinking back on a situation now passed.

"I am grateful. But I am eager to see how long this attitude of yours lasts."

"Hey, as long as the two of us stick together, there's nothing that we can't take down. We'll be able to muck up these fuckers wherever they try to make trouble for other people." As they started to continue their walk back to school, they then hear the loud noise of glass breaking near by. The noise caused turns their attention to further down the street, where they see several characters shifting rather violently into a store window, indicating a robbery. Without even thinking about it, both of them rushed towards the scene. "Well, that was quick!"

"Mind on the matter at hand now!"

"Yup!"

Within seconds they made it to the store in question were there were about six people, all dogs dressed in ragged street clothes, with their faces all covered with masks all vandalizing the store. Looking upon close inspection, the store seemed to be an old novelty jewelry store. One of the robbers started to smash up all of the showcases with a crowbar, taking all of the contents within and stuffing them in his pocket. The owner, an old mouse dressed in fairly comfortable overalls and a button up shirt attempted to stop them, only to be intercepted by one of the robbers, knocking him down flat to the ground with bat to the stomach.

"STOP! Please! I've given everything that I have!" The owner cried out as he laid on the store attempting to find his bearings to get up. He was pushed back down by the feet of what looked to be the leader of the group as he was giving signs to the other dogs to ransack the store. He held the owner down.

"You know what we came for old man! The boss decided he's done waiting around for your end of the deal, and your excuses! So we thought we would give you a little incentive to fork over what you owe him!"

"I told you I don't have anymore money to give to him for this month! I've already given everything that I have for this month's payment! I'm barely getting by as it is!"

"That ain't our fucking problem! Now you're gonna lose it all! Wreck it all boys!" All of the robbers started to make an absolute mess of the store, stealing anything that caught their eye and destroying anything that didn't matter to them. Personal belongings, antiques, pictures of family. All the owner could do was watch his entire business be broken before his very eyes, and could do very little to struggle against, at least if it weren't for two young men standing by.

The robber closest to the store window with a pocket full of valuables decided to make his exit first, and soon met a clothesline by Fisk to his neck knocking him down to the ground. Harmon then came in from behind him and went for one of the criminals that saw his partner get taken down, and gave several quick jabs to the pressure points in his chest area, stunning him for a brief moment in order to maneuver around him, flipping him over the his shoulder behind the robber's body, cracking his arm in the process as he fell to the floor.

"What the fuck?!" The leader noticed two of his guys get taken down in the blink of an eye."Who the hell are you kids?!"

"Nobody important. Just two guys that are about to kick your ass!" Fisk yelled out.

"W-what are you waiting for?! Shoot these fucking kids!"

The remaining four goons all took out small .45s out of their back pockets and got ready to fire at Fisk and Harmon, who were already on the move towards them. Harmon stepped up to two of the robbers, one on his left and right, standing only a good three feet away from each other, putting him in nearly perefect range of all of his targets. He gave a quick low kick to the left targets leg knocking him off his stance and gave several quick right jabs to other's face, then taking both of their arms and disarming them from the chest to the waist down and then flipping them over their heads. Once on the ground, he gave a knockout blow to each of them. On the other hand, Fisk went for the other two, giving a haymaker to both of his targets stomachs. He then gave a hard knee to one of the robbers that hit square in his face, and then quickly took the other one down in a DDT style takedown, similar to that seen in wrestling, with his face hitting solid ground and the several glass pieces littered all over the floor with a lot of them getting stuck in his face.

The leader looked around hastily to see all of his men on the floor unconscious, unsure of what action to take next. The boys drew closer, and then he decided to take his piece out next, aiming it shakily at the both of them who stood still in their tracks.

"Stay back! You hear me?! I'm not playing with you fucking kids! Do you know who we are?! Huh?!"

"Not really."

"Haven't the slightest idea, yet I assume you're going tell us in order to get some sort of desperate intimidation banter in?"

"Screw that! I'm shooting up the lot of you brats!"

Harmon and Fisk got ready to move as the leader put his hand on the trigger. Suddenly, the leader was taken down from his leg being pulled. In a turn of events, the owner has swept his leg out from under him, dropping his gun in the process. He quickly stood up, and locked the robber's ankle into a vice and began twisting away, making him curdle out in pain. The boys stood there in awe at what they just saw.

"Don't just stand there, grab his gun!" The store owner snapped the boys back into attention from that unusual sight. Fisk then went over to where the robber's gun slid out of his hand, and grabbed it by his shirt, and gave it to the owner, who then put it to the his vandalizers head."Still think I'm a sweet old man you uppity little shit?! When I was you age, I was in Hamburg, fucking up Nazi's, what have you got?!"

The owner continued to hold the robber in his anklehold while he still screamed out in pain.

"OWWWW! LET ME GO! OH GODDD!"

"Yeah! You like that shit, don't ya!"

Both Harmon and Fisk look at each other in surprise.

"A vet? Coulda fooled me, seeing as how he was on the floor sobbing away." Fisk said.

"The world is indeed full of surprising characters. But perhaps we should call the Commander before our new friend breaks his ankle."

"Good idea..."

 **A few minutes later**

After things calmed down, and after the boys managed to convince the old mouse to let go the leaders ankle before it snapped into three pieces, the cops came along in record time, and took away the unconscious robbers, and had commended the two for a good job done, and for not breaking someone's bone that much this time.

With sense and quiet reasserting itself, the owner started to put his store back in order, organizing all of the showcases that were broken to make sure nothing was missing. Harmon and Fisk stayed behind to help, clearing up the mess left behind after the fight.

"Thanks for helping me clean up, but shouldn't you boys be in school right now? I'm sure its pretty much past eight."

"Awww, we can take a late day without any consequence." Fisk declared proudly.

"At least one of us can." Harmon chided.

"Hey!"

The old mouse chuckled, seeing the two of them play off of each other. Upon closer inspection, the old mouse wore thick glasses with a neatly shaved buzzcut, was reasonably tall and surprisingly well built for a senior citizen.

"Hehehe. You two always like this with each other?"

"Like what? Mr..." Fisk asked while stacking a few knicknacks back on the shelf.

"Call me Leland. Leland Ronson. I was just saying that you two seem to be in almost perfect sync with each other. Finding faults, knowing what the other is thinking, that kind of thing."

The two looked at each other in amazement for a few seconds.

Shaking his head, Fisk said"What, with this guy? No way. Too serious and a killjoy for my tastes."

"One of us has to be the diligent individual, you can't think about the basic necessities of how many plates of potato salads you can stuff in your face before you throw up." Harmon responded.

"Oh bite me!At least I'm not trying to put woo chicks with a college sophomore's interpretation of Plato's Republic! The things over a thousand years old now, get over it already!"

"Oh? Does the idea of history strike a nerve with young Fisk? Like a certain impending event that will challenge your knowledge on the matter?"

"Screw you! I don't have to **know** which end of my fist has to go up someones asshole! And guess whose I feel like putting up right now?"

"You are certainly welcome to try!"

The two argued back and forth with each other, even trying to take swings and shots at each other. Hurling insults and giving each other bad nicknames, even attracting the attention of several people walking by the broken window. The old man then came between the two as they got in each other's face, almost on the verge of fighting one another, and separated the two of them with a strong pull.

"Alright, alright. Calm down ladies. You're both beautiful. Would you tone it down before you end up putting my shop in worst shape than it already is?"

"He started it." Fisk pouted.

"Did not." Harmon slightly turned his head to avoid his blushing being seen.

Leland patted both of them on the shoulder.

"Hahaha! That's what I'm talking about!" Giving a somber smile, he looked out a picture over on near the counter. It was him looking about 40 years younger with a large bull dog, with both of them wearing army fatigues, with their arms wrapped tightly around each other with both of them smiling. You two remind me of me and my old buddy that I knew back in the wasn't minute that we didn't pop off an argument with each other over the stupidest of crap. Girls, the bar tab, whether or not the sun could melt your eyes the longer you look at it. Anything you can think of, we would go on for days about it."

"Where is he now, if I may ask?" Harmon asked.

"Oh...he died a couple of years back. Got diagonosed with cancer when he came out of the army. Spent the last 40 years trying to keep it down. Even his wife stayed by his side every second of the day, helping him with everything that he needed. He was always a stubborn old dog. 'I'm going kick this cancer's ass until he runs home begging for his mama!' He always used to say over the phone."

"Sounds like he went out like a champ." Fisk added.

"That he did my boy. He even turned down getting chemotherapy because he wanted to prove that this kind of illness could be defeated with natural means. He spent every single day living his life to the fullest, exploring all the places that he couldn't go. Him and his wife had their second honeymoon in Barcelona, a place he couldn't even find on the map as a kid. Can you believe that?" The old man shuffled to the back of the store, getting a large box to put the broken antiques into for throwing them to the garbage."Yep. He was a great guy when I knew him. Speaking of which, his wife was a real looker too. Met her while he was over in Hamburg. She was one of the nurses serving time over in one of the camps. He couldn't take her eyes off her the first time he met her. Proposed to her right on the spot."

"She said no didn't she?" Fisk chuckled.

"'Course she did. Said she didn't want to get attached to a man she didn't know was gonna come back. Then he made her promise, for minute he was gone from her, was another minute they would spend together once they got together. They've been married for 38 years. Goes to show you how much stupid promises can take you huh boys?"

"Yes. I guess it does." Harmon said quietly. "Whatever happened to the wife?"

"She's still kicking. She just moved out to Los Angeles not that long ago. She still gives me a phone call every now and again to see how I'm doing. I told she didn't need to do that. She knows how much I hate the mushy stuff. But, she insists since I'm by myself now, I have to have at least somebody to talk to, besides a therapist."

"By yourself?"

"Yeah. My wife died giving birth to our son. She was always frail, but she was tough to the bone when it came to convincing her of anything. When the doctor told her she might have to get supplement drugs to make the delivery better on her body, she threatened to punch him so hard, he'll be shitting knuckles for a week. Hahaha!"

"Wow... you guys sure knew how to choose your women..." Fisk played off his cool comment. Harmon gave him a look of disapproval."Oh lay off!"

"What am I to do with you?" Harmon shook his head, and turned his attention back to the old man."So what happened to your son. Did he...?"

"What, die? Hahaha! Nah. My boy Harry came out strong and beautiful as I thought he would. With a perfect head on his shoulders to match as well, unlike his old man. Always had his head in some book when he was a kid instead of playing outside like a normal kid. I always used to get on his ass about it, but, I grew to appreciate that side about him. What kind of 5 year old kid said he would rather read read 'The Art of War' then play baseball with his dad? Jesus, that kid..."

Fisk glared at Harmon playfully.

"Gee, Harmon. Do you know what kind of kid would want to do something like that?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I didn't start reading books about martial strategy until I turned 7. This boy must be training to become a forecaster at best."

"And you just ended up provin' my point."

"Anyway, he was a smart kid. Even went onto Harvard when he got out of high school, at 14. I told him to wait a few years until he was ready, but he wanted the experience. Ended up becoming one of the youngest doctors in the country I'm told."

"A doctor? Wow! This guy was really rolling in the big bucks huh?" Fisk sounded impressed.

"Haha! Something like that. Though he's always frugal when it came to money. Saved every penny he had. Probably got that from me." The old mouse took the box filled with the broken knickknacks and started to throw them in the trash bin outside of the shop. When he came back in, he then grabbed a broom, and started to sweep the dust off the floor."He even got married when he got his second doctorates from Yale. This very upper crust gal from this rich family that made a killing on Wall Street back in the 50's dealing with loans. Linda Talcott. She was nice for a blue blood, but wasn't sharpest tool in the shed. Always let her father do her thinking for her. I asked Harry if he knew what he was doing, but he assured me that he loved her, and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, so I gave them my blessing. They got married...what's today...about 4 years ago. It was a special occasion, so as a gift, I gave him a radio."

"A radio?" Fisk raised an eyebrow."Your only son was getting married for the first time in his life, and you got him a radio? Most guys expect a Benz, so I'm a little confused."

"Fisk!"

"Nah, he's right. It was a weird gift to give. I still remember the look that he gave me when he opened up his present on his wedding day. His face looking like he just saw a tiny bird smack its face into the side of a building. But it was my most prized possession. It was a radio that I smuggled back with me from Worms. It still gets signal even to this day. I used to use it to run my pirate radio show back when I got back to the states. I even used to play music on it when I was putting him to sleep as a baby. I got a lot of special memories with that pile of I thought that if anyone should have it, it ought to be him."

"That sounds wonderful, good sir." Harmon positively said.

"Pshhh, I still would have asked for a Benz."Fisk snickered.

"See if you're getting anything for your wedding with those statements. I'm sure people will oblige." Harmon jabbed his elbow in his ribs.

"Yeah, yeah." Fisk said rolling his eyes and going off to clean up another portion of the store.

"So I take it your son had some issues with the gift." Harmon asked.

"He knew what the radio was, and how much it meant to me, so he accepted it regardless of what he might have thought about it. His wife didn't think much of it, but yeah, he was happy with that thing. I just know it."

Harmon and Fisk then stopped in their tracks as they heard a certain detail in the old man's speech.

" **Was**? What do you mean?"Fisk asked.

The old mouses expression then turned grim, performing his cleanup at a slower rate. He let out a big sigh, cracking his neck when sweeping up around the store.

"My son...he died last year in a car accident."

The boys stood there shocked. Though hesitant to ask about the nature of the event, Harmon worked up his courage for the question.

"What...happened exactly?"

"Well, from what the police were able to tell me, he was coming down a highway outside of Macon. He was supposedly speeding over 60 in a 40 mph zone. They suspected he might have been drunk, but I told 'em that was bullshit. Harry never drank a day in his life. The found his car, a blue sedan off the side of the expressway, after it went off the safety railings, and tumbled into a forest clearing down below. The gas had leaked out from the engine onto some grass and exploded just a few minutes later When they investigated, the car was completely totaled, and worst of all, his body was missing from the drivers seat. They said his body might have combusted in the fire."

"I see..."

"Anyway, it turns out, the car had been destroyed in the accident, had belonged to his wife's family company, and they put a lot of investments into it. So much so that they could buy three new houses with it. Seeing as how they never liked me or my son in the first place, they stuck me with the reparation costs for the car."

"But why?! It's not like you caused the crash, and why would you?! That was your son!" Fisk yelled out enraged. Harmon put his hands on his shoulder, beckoning him to calm down.

"Let him finish." Fisk clicked his teeth, and settled his anger."What happened after that? Did you manage to pay off the reparation fees?"

"I would have done so with that radio I gave Harry. Believe it or not, that thing can catch a hefty price when you sell it on the right market, so I tried to get it back. But...Linda's family had signed a legal contract, giving them binding rights to any property that Harry and her owned, including...my radio, and I couldn't even get access to it for no reason whatsoever."

"But it was your radio!" Fisk yelled.

"Hey, when some rich asshole has a bunch of lawyers that can sue you trying to steal the color blue, a lot of things tend to get shifted around."

"But still...!"

"Fisk, do not make me repeat myself." Harmon threatened. Though he wasn't that intimidated, he still backed off."Sorry, continue."

"Anyway, because I couldn't sell the radio, I couldn't get the money to pay off Linda's folks, and I wasn't making enough money off of my business, so I was in a real tight spot. So, I took out a loan from this financial company that her old man recommended to me. Little did I know that money I was getting belonged to one of the biggest gangs in the city. The Rolling 67's."

"The Rolling 67's?" Harmon exclaimed."That's the gang based out of Macon. Headed up by Michael Clayton if I'm not mistaken." Harmon coolly stated.

"I heard about him from my mom. He was a former death row inmate. They acquitted him for lack of evidence on his crime. He was in cahoots with that other scumbag we took down. He runs a good half of the state. Half of the banks in the city are almost broke thanks to how many people he screwed over." Fisk added.

"Yeah, not to mention, he charges a hell of an interest rate for his loans. More than 20% of the usual rate."

"That's outrageous! The bank standard is only 20% less than that!" Fisk said shocked.

"This is a criminal we're dealing with here. Normal standards don't apply unfortunately. Not to mention, that's a practice most banks have been instructed to apply varying from customer to customer." Harmon responded calmly.

"Your friend is pretty smart to figure that out. Hence why I don't trust banks with not even a penny of my money. Anyway, after I got the money to pay the family back, I then find out the price for the reparation had gone up due to negligent payments on my part. And I could only pay it all off on a down payment instead of in portions due to their policies. Plus I there was no way I could ask the 67's for more money, seeing as how I owe them as it is."

"So those guys from before were..."

"Yep. Clayton sends them here a few times a week to try and shake me down for what little money I'm making running this shop. I usually just let them do whatever and take whatever money I made for the day. But once I saw you boys, and those goons smashing up my stuff, something inside me just snapped. I hadn't felt like that in a long time, so it was kind of a rush."

"You're telling us! I've never seen anyone move that fast before, you're almost as fast as Harmon!"

"I'm afraid not. If I were to go against him I'm more than certain I would lose."

The old mouse chuckled.

"You don't have to sell yourself short kid. I can tell your body's been through hell and back. The way you moved earlier. You could have taken down all of those goons by yourself if you wanted."

Harmon chuckled.

"You're no simple old mouse I see, to spot that detail."

"I've been around son, trust me. But still, I'm in a bind that's for sure. And it sure as hell doesn't get any easier for me. I try to make the most of my business selling diamonds and the like, but there's only so much a fella at my age can do unfortunately. And it's not like I can fight them all off on my own. I just don't have it in me like I used to."

Leland then finished his sweeping and sat down on a small chair that he pulled out from over the desk. Watching his somber expression, Harmon put his finger on his chin, pondering over the situation that the old mouse was in. Fisk then approached Harmon, tapping his arm in the middle of thought.

" _Whatchu thinking?"_ Fisk whispered.

" _I'm thinking we ought to finish cleaning up this mess and get to class before we're late."_

 _"Dude you can't fool me! Let's help the poor guy out!"_

 _"Were you not just listening to what he just told us? Not only does he owe money to a well established financial conglomerate, but also to one of the most dangerous gangs in Atlanta. To help him would mean we are just as involved in this mess as he is."_

 _"I mean, we kinda are already. Remember the guys whose shit we kicked earlier?"_

 _"Point taken, but I can't shake the feeling there's more to this than what he's telling us."_

 _"So?"_

 _"So? Don't you remember what we were discussing. This is what you're sister was trying to tell you. You're too eager to get rid of a illness that needs more than medicine"_

 _"But we're not going after the gangs directly...We're just helping an old vet settle his debt with a few unmentionables. Nothing detrimental about that, right?Plus there's a chance that we might be able to get down into the meat of what's happening behind the scenes with everyone else, and really get this gig going by helping our first real client!"_

 _"Well..."_

 _"C'mon Harmon. You said it yourself, we should be smart about our approach and not just rush in. We can find out more about this company, and the gang that he owes money to, and do a litttle investigating on both of them. Then, once we find whatever evidence we can find, we can submit it all to the Commander, make a little side dough, and noone will even suspect it was us that was pulling the strings the whole time!"_

Harmon was taken purely aback by Fisk's plan.

 _"You...have clearly given this some thought."_

 _"Can't let you handle all the brainwork yourself right?"_

 _"Such consideration and planning. Lucy is right. I have been rubbing off on you."_

 _"Don't ruin my rise to greatness dude."_

 _"So...how do we go about gathering information about our unmentionables exactly?"_

 _"The library at school has an archival section for the newspapers right? Maybe we can look up something about the company and the 67's, and see if that might help us out!"_

 _"Hmmm, very well then...we'll see if how well this will go."_

The boys nodded to each other in agreement and resumed their work. After a few minutes of finishing up, and making the store look almost new, they began to say their goodbyes to Leland.

"Alright . We gotta head to class!" Fisk said as they both reached for the door.

"Hahaha! I coulda told you that! Thanks for the help boys! And do me a favor huh? Stay out of trouble?"

Harmon and Fisk smiled at the old mouse as they began to walk off down the street.

 _"We certainly will . We most certainly will."_ Harmon thought in his head. The two made their way to school, with their path already being set in motion.

 **Blue Diamond Blues Part 1 END**


	3. Episode 3:Blue Diamond Blues Part 2

**Forrest Grayson High School**

 **Public Library**

 **May 10th, 198X 3:15PM**

 **After-school**

 **The public library of Forrest Grayson Highschool was nothing extraordinary, but it still was brimming with the strong feeling that most would consider to be the higher standard of literature.** The room was layered with countless shelves and other bookcases, creating the archways of hallways and aisles for the students to walk through. Each other the shelves housed some genre of book, some useful to assignments, others for taking a gander for their own entertainment through one of its many light reading novels, and to very few, its pages were often used for other medicinal purposes that could be performed in the dark corner of the room that stood away from suspicious eyes.

Harmon dug through the archival section of the library, filtering anything that had anything to do with listings of any famous or infamous wall street stock brokers or loan appliances within the last few years, in order to help him locate a better lead on what kind of target him and Fisk were dealing with. He still had the look of uncertainty as he placed each of the books that he managed to grab off the shelves into Fisk's already filled arms.

"Let's see. Anderson Deals, Wall Street Crash of the 1920's, The New Deal, Undercover reports of the Malley Firm from 1975...hmmm. Nothing so far that seems to point us to our target as of yet."

"Nothing?! Then why the hell are my arms filled to the brim with fucking books dude that you aren't going to use?!" Fisk snapped at him.

"Need I remind you of all people that you must be quiet in the library at all times?" Harmon said indifferently while still searching through the bookshelf.

"Need I remind you that I only have two fucking arms?!" He ended up yelling out. The librarian, a middle aged mouse woman with large thick glasses shushed him from across the room, even pointing and emphasizing the 'No Talking' stuck on the wall near the exit, written in bright red letters, clearing her throat with a snooty tone at nodded and smiled nervously, to avoid getting in further trouble.

Obviously the two were not only late to their homeroom, but Fisk had also stirred up a chaos by giving a revolutionary speech on why he shouldn't take today's history exam with his argument being that he didn't study given he 1) Didn't have enough time to study,(which wasn't true, the test had been announced since last week) 2)The material was on things that he had not yet covered in class(The teacher had remembered to list down a set of topics to review for the incoming test, and recommended everyone copy it down off the board, which Fisk did not) 3) And the purpose of history is destitute, as people should only be thinking about the future and not focusing on the past to know what they should do(This one requires no further explanation)

"Instead of raising a fuss any more than you should, why don't actually make yourself useful and try and narrow our search down some?" Harmon grabbed a handful of books and placed them on a nearby table, sitting across from a few students, a bunny girl, a hyena boy, and a cat boy respectfully. All of them were in awe of at the huge stack of books that blocked their own field of vision, the two had managed to gather from the library, taking it as them being merely studious on their part, though the truth was far from that. Fisk carelessly dropped his tall stack down, creating a loud impact, leading the librarian to shush him once more. He shrugged in confusion.

"I can try to do that at least. So...where do we start?" He asked as Harmon sorted through the content of the books, identifying them back the titles on their spines, and taking the one from the absolute top.

"For now, let's at least try and identify the company that this Linda's father hails. If it as illustrious as puts it, it most likely has a recognizable and well founded history that can be found in any other reference or archived entry of national history. The only problem being..."

"How do we make the connection to his company and 67's available to the public and expose the bastard." Harmon silently nodded."But hang on, what makes you think that a regular public library might have stuff on Wall Street? Shouldn't that kind of stuff being in a major archive?"

"The archives only focus on more broader events, like infrastructure and economic overlays that were carefully observed around those times it occurred. What we're looking for is a little...personal. We're trying to find a single most person and identify his fortune. Most of the people here perform biographies using the reference material given to them here, with a lot of the archive pieces here not only pointing to key events in a subjects lifetime, but official documents, listings, locations that might be useful when trying to track down movements throughout history. It's similar to how the government tracks down their suspects even after they keep everything private based instead of public based."

"Whoa, that's major." Fisk stood impressed at Harmon's deduction. He never understood anything that he's ever said to a full comprehension when it came to their cases, but he would always perform the most adequete action that best mirrored it."But, we never got a name from the old man, or even what kind of firm he was working for. How can we track something down like that?"

Harmon smirked with confidence as he started to flip through the pages of the topmost book in the piles, which had read "Reports of the Inner Workings of 1940's Wall Street: Revised Edition". Occasionally expose were performed on such topics, which had disclosed information leading back to grubbed stock brokers and their illegal commission based deals that would end up turning a wide array of their customers out of business because of their invisible rates that they would attempt to profit from, only to find out there was nothing for them at all. Because there were so many of these kinds of cases being revealed to the public that ruined most of their reputations, many legal battles have been held over the usage of their names and activities, or did not come to answer the questions that these reporters asked, which only lead to more suspicion.

"Though it wasn't known entirely, there was a enormous killing for an tiny insurance firm named **Harvester Insurance and Appliances** that ended up gaining a plethora of customers from its increasing reputation. They had a gander of stocks holding up their financial gains as well for their customers, meaning they could afford to invest more into their prospects."

"Insurance firm? Aren't they usually a separate business outfit that goes beyond government affairs? Private owned and whatnot?" Fisk pointed out.

"I see you have been paying attention during government class at least. Yes, that's correct. But it is also possible to put your business on the stock market once you can convince a certain amount of people to invest in your projects, and to ensure that they're putting money into a growing business. This firm did just that in those days." Harmon said as he quickly scanning the pages of the book with amazing speed, and memorizing all of its details from left to right. Within seconds he put aside the book and pulled the next one of the stack and repeated the process only less than a minute later with three more books. The people sitting across from them watched in complete shock at his stellar reading ability, and how with much haste he finished them, save for Fisk, who was used to such a sight in his time spent with him. According to him, calling Harmon a simple bookworm would be an understatement, considering he can easily speed read a 300 page book in under ten seconds and recall the entire plot from beginning, middle and end. Most of the books he had taken out were no more than 500 pages long, which would take the average person a week to read, given they take up at least twenty to forty pages a day. To him, this was a light read.

"According to the other two I put down, the insurance firm had eventually grown in to huge conglomerate off its stocks and business, all in the time span of six months."

"Six months?" Fisk's eyes shot open."Were there people expecting to die the next day during those times or something? I thought the 40's were the rolling era to live dangerously."

"Considering there was a war at the time, and various conspiracy theories of domestic terrorism emanating in major cities from possible spies, I would gather people at least wanted to feel safe within the confines of the safety bubble that they crafted for themselves, but that's not far from the truth however." Harmon said.

"What do you mean? Were there any major deaths or injuries during the year that this insurance company covered?" Fisk asked. Harmon shook his head, indicating a negative response."Then, how they-?"

"At least, none that were accidental." Harmon quickly cut him off. Fisk scratched his head in confusion, taking a minute to double take and process what he just stated.

"Accidental? You mean...they were all intentional?!" Fisk exclaimed in surprise, with his voice booming throughout the library, and leading the library to hush him once again, emphasizing the sound by the hissing in her teeth. This time Fisk paid her no mind, too focused on the task at hand."It can't be that simple."

"I beg to differ." Harmon chuckled.

"C'mon man, you should know that better than any one, accidental injuries and deaths are totally different from intentional ones. Police can tell the difference from a lot of angles when they go to investigate those cases, either through interrogation or just finding some kind of clue that leads them to it." Fisk gave his best answer, to which Harmon seem impressed, judging by his small smile. Wagging his finger and shaking his head, he quickly turned the statement down despite his response to it.

"Fisk, these are experts. Masters at their craft. If they have the resources to somehow bring a small commodity like an insurance firm from the ashes to becoming one of the biggest businesses in New York through simple claims and well placed investments from their customers, what makes you think they couldn't cover their own tracks as well?" Fisk was stunted for an answer, looking down around his feet, unsure of where his confidence went.

"Alright then." He sighed a heavy breath."How did they do it then? They've stayed in business for so long, they obviously had some help, right?"

"I was just about to get to that. It turns out, the stocks that the company held, were all being carefully monitored and utilized by a new stock broker that just came onto Wall Street at the time. A man who clearly had ambition, or simply a lot of friends in the right places that could get him the results he and the company were looking for."Fisk rolled his eyes.

"Don't tell me, let me guess. The asshole we're looking for?" He said with a irritated tone. Clearly he was upset about the idea of an insurance company using fake claims by for customers that under mysterious circumstances, had either died or had life impending injuries, but the fact that one lone stock broker was handling the whole thing under a guise that went unnoticed for over 40 years was too much to garner kind thoughts towards.

Harmon then took one of the previous books that he read, and flipped to a page with only one movement of his hand, and with his finger landing perfectly on his paragraph of choice.

"Here read this passage." He said, gesturing Fisk to read by tapping his finger on the page.

"Do I have to?" He defiantly groaned.

"Do I have to remind you that it was you suggestion that we help this fellow?" Harmon chided him. Fisk sucked his teeth, and reluctantly began to read off the page.

"Okay, let's see...

' _Miraculous gains manifest yet again for this young broker for the second year in a row, as Kendrick Talcott takes home his latest commission report for closing his most recent deal with the CEO of Waterbrook Construction, ensuring them a full investment package for insurance claims, which have all been established as per agreement to all of the companies employees, giving them full coverage in every regard. This ambitious twenty two year old has had more than a lucky streak going for him, easily settling previous deals with the Fiscal Company of Renewal, and the Parker Urban Industries for signing on to the stocks of the insurance company Harvester Insurance and Appliances, easily putting them at the most demanded coverage in the last twenty years...'_

Whoa, this guy made a killing off the investments made by big head companies for an insurance company that made fake insurance claims...oh wait claims with fake incidents..." Fisk remained silent, taking his fingers off the page, breathing heavily through his nose."Have I mentioned that I really think this guy is an asshole, and I really want to do horrible things to him?" He said boisterously, gathering everyone's attention again from his language.

"Not on that level, I'm afraid." Harmon coolly replied."Plus it should also stand that all of the companies mentioned all had to file bankruptcy due to a lack of stable employees, and were in severe withdrawal of new ones."

"Makes sense. I mean nobody wants to work for the company where there have reported deaths happening almost every day of the week because of an 'accident'." Fisk shrugged.

"That is also true, but what is that they all have in common with one another?" Harmon poised his question to his friend. He lightly tapped his finger on the side of his chin as he immersed in thought, soon snapping to realization.

"They're all urban renewal companies."

"Correct, and if you can recall, the area where 's shop is located, has been due for a renewal project for the past year or so. They practically have all of the money to proceed with its prospect."

"But that's a whole city block! They can't just tear it down because a few mom and pop businesses are barely making ends meet."

"That's precisely why they're doing it, not to make sure that they can put new businesses there to replace the old ones, but to send a message of change that arises from a supposed failure to a improved success. It is a textbook definition of gentrification of old appliances, so it really makes perfect sense."

"Never thought I would hear you say that." Fisk nudged Harmon at his arm with his elbow.

"There's really not much input that I could offer that you would find favorable unfortunately, seeing as how I'm originally not from here myself. It would be better than claiming that this is a place that I would defend at all cost since I call it my home. Such things would be hypocrisy."

"Kinda like what you're doing right now?" Fisk grinned with eagerness to catch Harmon off guard for his statement.

"I simply do this to satiate my boredom. Additionally, you don't seem unpleasant, so two and two go together I suppose." Harmon said as he sunk his head back into the book he gave to Fisk to read. Fisk playfully shook his head at him. In all the time that he had known him, he would have never thought to see the day Harmon would act bashful towards any subject that had to do with him or the town in general. Then again, being obviously more blunt than his peer, he found such behavior to be cute considering its deniable attitude.

"Uh-huh...right. Keep telling yourself that." He then wrapped his arm tightly around Harmon's and suddenly closed the book, almost jamming his finger from the impact."So? What's the plan? We obviously know the guy is somewhere in town, we just gotta find out where right?"

Harmon rolled his eyes, pulling himself away from Fisk's grip, and then went over to the front desk and grabbed an issue of today's newspaper. He opened it up, forcefully flipping through several of its pages, creating a loud and disruptive sound coming from the rustling of the paper. The librarian stared at the two boys again with a face absolutely teeming with anger, and a growing notion to kick them both out.

When reaching the page of his choosing, he then placed it on the table in front of Fisk, pointing to a particular article in the current events section. The headline read in big bold letters

 _ **BANQUET TO BE HELD IN CEO KENDRICK TALCOTT'S HONOR IN THE LAWSON BUILDING AS IT CELEBRATES ITS ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY**_

The picture hovering under the headline showed a spectacular and towering structure of a building in the background, with its gleaming windows reflecting the blue sky in an almost idyllic fashion. In the picture, numerous cameramen and news reporters surrounded a large and rather handsome looking black dog dressed dapper in a cuffed business suit, with his whitening hair slicked back to further compliment his old age, yet superior fashion sense. He stood confidently, holding an official looking document in both hands, which the boys could only assume was a contract of sorts indicating the various properties included in the renewal project, including Leland's own store.

Fisk's eyes popped out at the page, amazed by the possibility of entry that is drawing him and his friend closer and closer to this case.

"That my friend, is public knowledge, and a factor I should have figured since I heard about it firsthand. The Lawson Building is a placeholder for Talcott Industries new expansion project."Fisk nodded in agreement.

"Not only that, this building looks brand spanking new, not nearly as old looking as some of the other skyscrapers you would find around Buckhead, that's for sure."

"That's due to its rather its excellent conditioning that is performed on it daily. It's takeout for the construction easily must have cost millions at the very least. Which could only come from decades of selling stocks built on fake insurance claims. Also, check the date on the tagline of when the building was completed." Harmon pointed to a small detail in the article, highlighting the date.

"May 8th, of last year..." Fisk read with a focused expression, soon his eyes shot open with surprise."Wait a minute. One year ago...that was when 's...!" Harmon nodded eagerly. The two boys both gave big smiled to each other, putting a few of the others sitting around them on an uncomfortable edge."Holy shit! Man, we got this guy now!" Fisk screamed out in excitement thrusting his arms in the air, with his voice echoing throughout the room. Within seconds, the mouse librarian strutted over in her aged clothes and giant glasses with the frames resembling diamonds with particularly sharp edges around them. She stood directly behind an unknowing Fisk, creating the sound of her clearing her throat, grabbing the attention of the boys.

Harmon and Fisk walked downstairs from the third floor coming to contact with the ground floor where droves of students were seen careening from every corner of the room as the dismissal bell blared in everyone's ears. The boys walked towards the exit, following separately along with the crowd, closely gripping their freshly made detention slips in their hands.

"So...uh...you got the address right?" Fisk awkwardly asked, attempting to make conversation from the silence traded between both of them, but drowned out by the noise of the other kids.

"Yes...I uh...copied it down before our...premature exodus." Harmon quietly responded. Both of them had the expressions of two young men that have had the fear of God etched into their brains, refusing to speak on the events that just transpired just a few minutes barely ten seconds, Fisk could heard muttering under his breath.

"So just for the record...ummm...faculty can't curse at the students...can they?" He asked Harmon.

"If the cursing was performed in over twenty languages...plus three dead ones...I'm certain it doesn't matter..."

"Right...ummm...don't call me crazy...but...I think she called me a 'cheap ass shit-eater' in Italian."

"How do you know what Italian sounds like?"

"My mother had a lot of boyfriends..."

 **Lawson Building a.k.a. Talcott Industries HQ**

 **Macon, Georgia**

 **May 10th 198X. 4:00PM**

Looking at a huge monument of a building seemed to be more of a monolith to young Fisk Black, as he hardly ever got to gander eyes on such a structure on a daily basis, especially in a small town like Macon. To him, it seemed the height of the roof itself gave the idea that it would pierce the very heavens themselves, not that he could understand such logic if one were to apply philosophy to such an argument. The Lawson building was a thing to behold no doubt. Standing at over 40 stories tall with floors exceeding all the way into the double digits and possibly even further. The gleaming lights of the looming sunset reflected of the windows of the building, showing brief glimpses of the inside rooms and office section. Crowds of people entered and exited out of the building, all dressed in expensive looking suits and dresses, easily identifying their positions within the structure and the company, ranging from business associates, sales managers, business managers, and so forth. The way they walked was enough to intimidate anyone who thought themselves on equal platforms with their ilk. Though Fisk was hardly put off. He never considered to be higher than anyone. He only sought to be himself.

He then sat back down in his cafe seat, sinking his eyes back down onto to the well crafted table, and then viewing the shallow blackness that was his coffee cup. Despite his taste for caffeine was less than ideal for him, he actually found it rather calming for him when staking out a target. Though he doesn't drink it not only for this reason, but he could no longer tolerate Harmon's lecturing on it.

Harmon sat in the seat across from him, displaying one of the newspapers that he had purchased earlier from one of the vendors. He quickly flipped through the pages, scanning every single detail of its contents from the sections diverging from current events to sports and to horoscopes. Fisk stuck his hand out waving rather annoyingly in Harmon's face, hoping to catch his attention.

"So, how are we gonna do this? Do we have some kind of plan of how we're gonna get in?" He asked him.

"You're just presenting this thought to me now? After we just spent an hour on the bus?" Harmon chided back, as if to point out Fisk's own negligence before the accusations of his own.

"Hey, what was I supposed to do? You're usually the one who draws up the plays, and I just run 'em! But we've sat here in these seats for about twenty minutes, and we haven't even moved a finger yet towards the doors at least. But then again, not like we could." Fisk said, nodding towards the guards placed just outside the doors, standing adjacently on each side of the doors. Making them out from the front entrance alone, there was about four of them posted outside, guarding both entrances into the building. It was practically a guarantee for there to be even more posted on the inside, and in even greater number than a measly four. Considering their heavy build, there were likely to put up a considerate fight against the two youths.

Harmon peeked his head up at the front entrance, taking the various details of their current way in, or at least the most obvious one.

"The front entrance is guarded you mean? Of course it is. And its likely that the back entrances connecting from the parking lots are also covered as well seeing as how the traffic is being diluted into the entrance."

"No doubt there's some high rollers attending this little shindig. Pretty much everybody that owns a piece of the color blue is gonna be here. So that means, there's gonna be a lot of witnesses here."

"Indeed. That also means that even if we were to somehow take out the guards and sneak in undetected, we would be made out almost immediately, considering our rather uncouth attire."

Fisk looked down at his white shirt and blue jeans combo, wiping the dust gathering on it, and taking in his appearance, nodding in agreement to his friend's statement.

"We could steal a couple of suits from one of the dressing rooms to try and blend in." He suggested with a gleaming face.

Harmon slowly shook his head, with barely any hesitation." I'm afraid even with a suit, there's a certain lack of etiquete that we sorely have. Especially one of the present company."

Fisk raised an eyebrow, pointing to himself in great regard.

"You trying to say I ain't got no manners? For a country boy, is that it?"

"Manners are one thing. The ability to play the game is a whole other affair all together." He placed his finger on his chest, tapping it a few times before quickly flicking his nose once his head pointed downwards."A high society crowd are highly observant individuals, not only believing that every piece of a persons clothing tells them who they are, but from details that would hardly suspect, such as movements, body languages, how they move their lips even, several aspects such as that."

Fisk rubbing his nose from its minor sting sucked his teeth in disbelief.

"Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you read that out of some book somewhere as well?"

"I have been trained in such arts since I was small. My mentor wanted me to be able to blend in any environment regardless of my social standing. High societal gatherings such as this, I have been attending for as long as I can remember.

Fisk eyes popped open in surprise. Though he had a rather stoic air about him that seemed regal in a sense, he would have never expected that such a place and such methods interacting were second nature to him.

"You say your mentor taught you? What else did he teach you?"

He looked up at Fisk's inquisitive face, seeing the curiosity in his eyes. For a brief-and just a brief second- he saw himself as a child again. So eager to learn everything around him, and to indulge in everything that the world had to offer, in attempts to find the answers to any questions that he might have. He chuckled at the comparison, which his friend took notice of, tilting his head in confusion.

"I say something funny?" He asked, slightly irritated.

"Not at all." His previous smile quickly faded."That's a tale for another time I'm afraid. Right now, we have a job to do." He then threw focus right back into the task at hand."So, now that we have spent our stake out discussing of what we're against, I assume you have a plan to get us in?"

Fisk was taken aback in shock, leaning back in his seat.

"Wait a wait? What now?"

"Do you have a-?"

"I heard you the first time. But why is it up to me?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it because of your conviction to help old man Ronson that we are in this situation in the first place?"

"Yeah, but we agreed that we both would be on board with it!"

"For the execution? Certainly. As far as planning and creating our method of entrance, I'm leaving that entirely to you my friend."

"That's not fair!" Fisk exclaimed."You're the egghead here, not me! I can't just come up with a plan like you do."

"No? You seemed to have thought out the means to help out him out earlier. Who is to say you cannot do the same thing here and now?"

"Even so..." Fisk fidgeted around in his chair in pure uncertainty, which was a first witness of his behavior for Harmon, considering his rather boisterous and confident personality. He calmly placed his hand on his trembling shoulder, feeling the stiffness in his body.

"I would not place the details of the plans in someone if I didn't trust them outright with anything. That's exactly what I doing for you right now.

"I still don't know what possessed you to want to try and aid a down on his luck old man when there could other pressing issues that we could put our focus towards, but then I remembered., this is exactly why you pushed for us to do this kind of thing in the first place." Various flashes appeared before Harmon as he went on with his speech. It looked the same as it always has in his mind, sitting in that usual cell, decrepit and ruined all around as far as the eye could see with his sights aimed directly at the walls, in complete silence. "You did not want him to be helpless in his situation, so you took it upon yourself to do it for him. Because you know...what it's like to feel helpless, to be trapped in dire circumstances with everything happening before you...that you have no control over. To be racked over the guilt of a loved one lost because you were incapable of doing anything else.

"It's why we do this, and why you chose to help him."

"Man, I was just being nosy. I had no business getting involved in his mess, and he even told us to not worry about it ourselves."

"I would agree with him on that regard." Fisk frowned at that comment."But, if you weren't always so eager to jump into someones business, I am uncertain at what my fate would be."

Fisk laughed awkwardly, as if to cover up an embarrassing story from his past.

"Yeesh. You still think about that? That still feels like so long ago."

"It was only a few months ago."

"Still though..."

"My point being, your persistence will bring forth results. And this is the first place to reign in that very persistence."

Fisk took a deep breath, taking in his friends words, and internalizing them. Though he was one to simply take action over planning, he was not without thought over the consequences or the regrets that come with that action. Harmon knew that about Fisk, despite it not being so obvious. He felt that it was not only his duty as his partner, but his friend, to draw this out of him.

"Man, you really know how to give a fancy speech don't you?"

"A speech is nothing without someone to listen to it." Harmon held out his hand to Fisk signaling a handshake. He grabbed his hand with a tight resolve and grip

"So now...I'll ask you once again." Harmon smiled."What's the plan partner?"

Giving himself a minute to do his scan on the building himself, he glanced at a particular part of the structure that started to catch his eye, and a particular individual going to it, dressed in dirty overalls and pushing a garbage can forward, with various cleaning tools equipped to it.

"Let's just say...it's gonna get a little...dirty."

The CEO's office stood at the absolute precipice of the entire building complex, far outstripping every other office that was placed on every floor. Even the walls themselves were decorated in lavish fashion, befitting exactly that of an accomplished businessman, or at least in the eyes of the grand public. Kendrick Talcott was a man that considered his life's work to simply be a means to higher calling in society. To be able to propel himself on account of other's expense, but to be justified by it. At first, he was stunted with disbelief that such a reaction could be put onto his image from the methods performed to bring him to his current position, but quickly solidified it as his manner of gaining capital from an everlasting source. His investments in insurance claims were the stuff of legend from his Wall Street days. Easily gaining over $300,000 dollars in stock from his investments from small time insurance firms in his first week of working there.

Although he did turn some heads, there were always means of converting such views in an opposite spectrum should you have such means to do so, and with the gains that he was claiming from his vast amounts of business ventures, he most certainly did not lack in such a department.

He stared at himself for about a few minutes in the mirror with narcissistic glare, admiring his appearance for the future events that awaited him in less than another hour. Adjusting his tie, he scanned his suit, keeping a lookout for any wrinkles and spots, not that he needed to worry frantically about such things for man of his stature. He would fill out just about any appearance, regardless of any shortcomings in it. Talcott smiled widely at his reflection, pleased with what he saw in his custom designed suit with black silk and brown Italian shoes to top off the dress of an elite. Of course, that's now it always for him as he remembers.

Like all successful businessmen, or at least as they claim to be, Talcott comes from humble origins growing up on a small farm in Ohio with barely a dime to his name in a town that was racked with grief by the war. Seeking to venture out into the world that surrounded him as a boy, he ran away from his drunk of a father and squanderer of a mother at the tender age of twelve all the way to New York. He worked late night shifts at countless restaurants and diners just to make sure his stomach was filled for the night and for the morning. As a side activity he also gambled what little money he maid from his wages, and surprisingly found success in them, usually making away with three times than what he normally worked off.

Making a name for himself in the gambling circles around the city, he started to grow ambitious, attempting to gain a lock on further means of gaining money, his only desire next to nothing. Despite not having a formal education, Talcott was remarkably well read and intelligent in anything having to do with numbers specifically, being able to know the ins and outs of an economies functionality at only five years old. After realizing that his gambling activities could either land him up in a prison cell or at worst dead, he decided to use the money to promote himself in the field of business by buying up local insurance firms. Talcott knew that the most thing that people wanted the most, was protection from injury or any fatal accident, and begun to spin his plans in motion. Using his underworld connections, he started to ensure that the customers that signed on to his firms would get their money's worth by setting up "accidental" incidents, giving their customers incentives to invest more money in their claims with his firms, often resulting in fatal injuries or death, which had ended up being his golden goose in his field. The methods were very discreet as well, often with the customers not even detecting that their injuries were intentional, nor the police at the time. His firms went on to be very successful, making it inevitable that he would take his business prospect to Wall Street and translate it into stocks, putting him into the position he is in now. CEO of his own company that provides means and other resources for urban renewal projects to make way for better and safer communities. Though his business hasn't extended as far as he would like to in the rest of the country, many papers suggest that it would only be a matter of time, since his fiscal results from last year had exceeded almost anything earned by businessmen in a similar field. Often he is asked of his success, and while he feels tempted to give the most factual answer, he remains in a humble spirit.

This is the side that he keeps hidden from others, namely the public. The face seen in newspapers and radio interviews, is the man that has built himself a foundation using hard work and effort, using the system to better himself and in the process, others as well.

A loud chiming noise went off on the phone's intercom placed neatly on his desk, with the red light flashing repeatedly. On the other line, a sultry sounding voice could be heard briefly clearing her voice before speaking.

"President Talcott. Several of the guests that you have placed on the legates list are beginning to arrive in the main lobby, also the investors from the urban renewal project are here to discuss the fiscal results of future prospects, they await you in the conference room."

"Send the investors to the main lobby along with the other guests. Regardless of what business they have to discuss, they shall do it where I am surrounded by purpose of my celebration. I do not wish to upset any of my guests with such professional drawl."

The receptionist on the other end waited for a few seconds before responding to Talcott.

"Very well sir. Also, your daughter is here to see you."

Talcott raised an inquisitive eyebrow. He had not seen his daughter since her wedding, after which she practically stopped keeping in contact with him. Talcott had raised his daughter to completely obedient towards him and him alone, especially in matters concerning her own well being. Everything had been decided for her, from her education, her physical appearances, her social etiquette, and her mannerisms. All of which Talcott had perfectly engineered for his own creative means of extending the empire he had built. For the majority of her life, she barely, if not, never questioned her father's wishes, creating the gilded cage that surrounded her for a number of years, until she broke free of it through the most unsuspecting means. Her late husband was the last person that he considered to be deserving of his daughters attention, much less her supposed affection, and had tried on many occasions to dissolve the bond before it could fully develop into an unwanted thing of impossible circumstances, unfortunately it only created negative results, as Linda ended up rebelling against her father, and for the first time in her life, showing her free will, and breaking free of the cage placed over her life.

"Very well, send her in."

"Already done sir. She is presently making her way to you now."

The sound of the intercom cutting off echoed through the spacious office, bringing an almost pleasant sound to his ears. He walked over to his mini fridge placed covertly under his desk. Opening the tiny door revealed the contents of the insides, expensive and varied wine glasses as far as the eye could see. He decided that it would be for something the occasion of meeting his flesh and blood after so many years , but nothing too heavy as to upset his balance and moral compass for the confidently grabbed the French Red wine bottle that sat in the near back of the fridge that was cool to the touch, and grabbed two clear glasses off the nearby shelf, and started to pour the wine into the glasses. The red stream of liquid trickled into one of the glasses, filling it up to the halfway point and stopping to do the same to other glass, only going nearly up to the tipping point, which was most likely his glass, and the former his daughters.

He took his glass in his hand, neatly placing it between the middle and index fingers of his right hand, and begun to swirl it in his hand, allowing the red liquid to swish around in the glass. He overlooked the clear view of his office window, which had stretched easily over several feet, giving him a large overview of the entire city district, giving him perfect sight of almost everything blanketed by the radiant setting sun.A grin then began to form on his face, forming from cheek to cheek.

 _It will be mine. It's only a matter of time._ He thought to himself. _And I have that fool to thank for it all._ Though the insult was clear in his mind, it didn't indicate who he was referring to. It wouldn't be surprising to think that Talcott had made enemies in his line of work especially from his Wall Street days, where he was often the item of envy from many of his peers due to his success in profits at such a young age. Although it would be doubtful that many would continue to pursue him after his success.

Suddenly, a small knock could be heard on the other end of the massive doors leading into his office.

"Enter." He declared out loud, and the hinges on the lock came off, opening the door. He didn't bother turning around to greet his guest, as he knew full well who it was. Through the door, entered a white furred poodle, both curvaceous and beautiful in appearance with her baby blue eyes, and long puffy white hair tied together at the very end. She had stood at a slightly above average height, dressed in a modest garment with black silk and red steaks surrounding the waist area and black heels that further extenuated her nearly perfect figure.

She slowly approached the desk of Talcott, seeing herself perfectly in the reflection of the large glass window, as well as him, her own father.

"Care for some?" He extended the hand that held the wine glass with his free hand tucked eloquently behind his back."It's a Chierion '34. A fellow that I knew back in Windhr gave this to me as a sign of our friendship and business. It's blended with a special tasting succor of cherry mixed with various other fruits, with just a hint paprika to give it an extra kick in flavor. This drink won several awards in Paris five years ago you know. For its exquisite taste, and the outstanding demeanor it presents at celebratory occasions such as this one. It's meant to celebrate new beginnings, and the reunification of bonds once lost.

Linda stood there with a minor scowl, slightly disgusted at her fathers indifference to her presence.

"I didn't come for a drink father..." She said rather calmly, though Talcott could detect the menacing tone in her voice. She was clearly no longer the daughter he groomed her to be.

"A grown daughter refusing to exchange drinks with her own father? I'm shocked to hear that. I only wish to celebrate this reunion on more informal terms. Is that so much to ask?" Talcott said with an almost suave tone. Linda knew her father well, and this particular trick that he used to be elude the real intention of a person, and consume them with his own intentions instead. The true sign of a charismatic person that has time to perfect the technique over the years.

"Reunion? I know you came to Harvey's funeral last year."

"There was a funeral? I had no idea that father of his could even finance such an event. He must have a lot more hidden finances than I gave him credit for. To think that a veteran such as himself could find ordained success. My original impression of them was that they were all crazed drunks that ended up in a ward somewhere." It was a clever yet sarcastic way of stating that he wasn't at the funeral. Feigning ignorance without actually saying anything was remarkable way of conversation that was common language for men of Talcott's cloth. Though it didn't make much difference, as Linda glared at him intensely. She could see through all of it, as she should.

"I know you knew there was one. The perpetrator always returns to make sure his crime was carried out successfully." She said, making the accusing tone in her voice known to him.

"Perpetrator?" He laughed."You wouldn't be referring to me, would you? You would accuse your own father of a crime that he did not commit."

"Is there no other person who could have made it possible? Harvey was driving the car that you gave him for our anniversary, and the brakes were purposefully cut out from what the police found out at the scene of the crime. Not to mention you took over all appliances that led from over to you. It can't be anyone but you!" Linda responded with her counts of evidence. Though Talcott remained calm in the judgement process.

There was silence in the air for a few seconds. Talcott took the time to take another sip from his glass and briefly turned his shoulder at an angle to look at his daughter through his peripheral vision. He was genuinely surprised at her appearance, as he flashed to images as a child, innocent and pure according to his eyes that did whatever he told her to without question. A profound ruse for keeping someone under control.

"Are you saying that I had something to do with your husband's death? Dear Linda, you ought to know better than anyone, I'm not in the field of business anymore. I am, how do the youth say, rolling straight. And plus, I have nothing to hide from you, my own daughter. What kind of father would I be then?" He said, giving the pretense of a concerned and hurt father.

Linda sighed in disbelief at the dishonesty that she was receiving from him, and the fact that she had received for all of those years throughout her childhood. Always being told that 'no matter what happens, always listen to your father' or 'your father well guarantee that you will never struggle at all in your life'. Words fed to a child that would result in absolute obedience, but to the ears of an adult, a trap disguised in kindness. And she knew it as well. Her free will robbed with her own compliance, and not being any the wiser.

"Even now, after all of these years. You refuse to admit your crimes, even to your own flesh and blood."

"My dear, the only crime that I have ever committed was not leaving enough of a tip of a certain bellboy that I am certain my secretary is having an affair with. I almost feel bad that his termination would have to come only just after I hired him just last week. Such a cute way of showing spite, I must admit, but he will understand the process of it all." He paused to take another sip."Even though I was not particularly...fond of your husband...I still respected him as man. He was well mannered, bright, successful in his career, and best of all, he somehow managed to gain your hand, all while convincing me that is the duty of a father to oversee and even...how should I say...make sure that my daughter is in good hands."

"To think you say this now, even after he's dead...Unbelievable."

"The boy was perfect for you, I certainly see that now."

"You were against our marriage from the very start! You couldn't cope with the reality that I was beginning to change, to think for myself. How someone made me open my eyes for the very first time without needing to rely on anyone, and realize what you were doing to me this whole time."

"What I was doing? What was that exactly Linda? Being a father to you? Raising you on my own after your so called mother refused to do so? Gave you a roof over your head? Fed you? Gave you the finest of clothes, jewelry, and belongings that a little girl could ever ask for? Education from the finest schools, connections that gave you status? Giving you all the advice that you would ever need, 'listen to me, and everything will be alright?' Where exactly did I go wrong with raising you dear girl? Please inform me of the horrible things I did to you?"Even though the words were spoken from his tongue, Linda shook her head at it all, for none of it gave any weight to her feelings. Which were all she could hold onto for her to think straight.

"I can't believe you. You still don't understand what you were doing to me all of those years? You don't understand how much freedom I gained when I met Harvey. The feelings that I gained, the love that I felt when he took me into his life, meeting his father, hearing his story. I felt...alive. More alive than I had ever thought I could be."

Talcott chuckled to himself, which had grown into a full blown laughter that echoed through the room and had rung his own ears with how loud it was.

"My goodness! I have never, in all of experiences of attending Broadway plays, have heard a monologue spoken so gaudy before. Tell me, did that crazed old man tell you to say these things to me? To somehow give some higher meaning to how you turned out the way you did? If so, I need to find him and give him a handshake personally and the card of a screenwriter that desperately needs his talents!"

Unfazed by her father's obvious insult, she pressed on to say."So...you know why I'm here then?"

"Haha! Unfortunately no. Other than the amusement you are giving me right now, and a rather conflicted emotional turn of course. But I take it I don't need to ask, seeing as how you will tell me anyway?"

 _For once, we agree on something._ Linda thought to herself. With a straightened back, she marched up to his desk, slamming her hands harshly on the table, almost knocking the wine glass down.

" 's shop was attacked earlier today by the 67 gang. They left his shop in shambles. He doesn't have enough money to pay for the damages, and his insurance isn't nearly enough cover that, and the debt he owes you."

"Attacked by ruffians, eh? I'm not surprised. He always did attract the uncouth sort." He chuckled again before taking another sip from his half empty glass. "Are you suggesting that **I** had something to do with the attack? I have no association with them as far I'm concerned."

"Don't play dumb with me. You recommended him to a money lender that was sponsored by the gang in order to pay you back for the legal disputes after Harvey died. Which was all moot considering that you yourself had already paid off the disputes from a third party name, and the money that he gave you, is gone isn't it?"

"How was I supposed to know that such an official bank had been shaken down by one of the largest gangs in the state? The fellow that leads them, what his name...Clayton? Do you honestly think I would do business with any financial establishment, knowing it was headed up by a felon?"

"Heh, and here I thought that criminals couldn't stand to do business with each other."

Talcott's smile quickly faded, turning into one of scorn.

"Linda. If you call your father a criminal one more time, I won't hesitate to give the discipline you so rightly deserve." Linda chuckled lightly to herself, since she couldn't believe what she was hearing from an old man such as himself. A senior threatening to beat his own grown daughter was almost laughable in her mind.

"So you don't deny your involvement?"

"What involvement? I have no involvement." He said in a monotone voice.

"Then how do you know Clayton then? He isn't exactly posing for magazines considering he's technically an escapee from death row. The only you would know about him and his current activities is that you deduced it from his imprisonment to his disappearance, which I doubt you have on your own, or that you do business with him and his organization personally, and set up together. Which one sounds more suitable to you father?"

Talcott remained quiet, though not from being outmatched in Linda's accusation, but from his growing lack of disgust that was emanating from this very discussion. For the first time ever since she came in, he turned around to face her completely, seeing her in full view. He then tries to bring the wine glass to his lips, only to find the glass forcefully brought down by Linda's hand, with just enough force to break the glass on the desk, spilling the liquid all over the surface. She then quickly grabbed one of the shards, aiming just right below throat. Talcott looked at his daughter with a dangerous alloy to his nape, though he was oddly calm

"What are you doing Linda?" He asked coldly, expecting the answer to be one that would cause him to react at a given moment. Though he knew that no matter what answer she gave, she wouldn't go through with the deed. He knew she wasn't built for the outfit of a killer, made evident by her trembling hands. He then asked a question of his own that he knew would get genuine answer"Why are you really here?"

She stayed quiet for a few seconds. Swallowing the spit in her mouth and taking a deep breath, she opened up and uttered "Where...is 's radio?"

The elevator buzzed open, giving a loud noise that reverberated through the whole parking lot. The two custodians, dressed in the blue overalls with obvious stains from top to bottom entered the elevator with garbage cans that had various cleaning equipment dangling from the handles. They were left in awe at how many buttons had been on the panel for the floors, and pressed the one that lead to the lobby. Their faces were cleverly hidden from big brown hats which the front had shadowed any detail that might point out their age, much less their appearance. The custodian on the right coughed loudly, as if trying to relay a signal. The one next to him jabbed him in the elbow.

"Will you stay quiet?" Harmon whispered in frustration.

"I can't help it!" Fisk whispered back in an equal manner. "Whatever this guy was cleaning, I'm probably allergic to!" He adjusted the slightly large clothes that him and his partner 'relieved' from the last people to sport them.

"Well then cover your mouth. I don't need to catch anymore germs than I do already!"

Fisk grinned in amusement at his partner, seeing how he was more irritated then usual. His eyes shot open upon discovery.

"Dude...are you germphobic?" He asked silently.

Harmon twitched in surprise, refusing to say anything, though the reaction pretty much confirmed it.

"Holy crap, that's hilarious! No wonder you never wanted to play football with the crew on Saturdays, you don't like getting dirty!"

"Is it a problem that I genuinely care about my hygiene to not want to get slathered in dirt every few seconds?"

Fisk shrugged, while at the same time attempting to hold in his laughter.

"Did you seriously not know what I meant when I said we were gonna get dirty?"

"I thought you meant some kind of rear attack that involved us subjugating the guards in some manner or another. In other words, figuratively, not literally!"

"Oh my god! You are terrified of getting dirty aren't you. The hairs on the back are standing up even. Wow, wait until I tell Lucy about this little tidbit."

Harmon raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Lucy? What does your sister have do with my shortcomings?"

Fisk stayed quiet giving the gesture that his lips were sealed with mischievous smirk. Though he was tempted to press on, Harmon shook his head and put his mind back onto the task once the elevator bell dinged as they reached their designated floor.

The lobby was more lavish then they thought, though guesses weren't exactly far off from looking at the building from the outside. Several guests had been coming in droves from the front entrance, all dressed in elegant and regal impressions. Fisk eye's scanned the lobby in wonder, never thinking that Harmon's words would come true in such a fashion. The chatter in the lobby from all of the guest's mouth aside from the loudness their outfits made was enough to set him off. He was almost thankful that he didn't put much thought into the method of entry, and simply left it up to his fascination with spy movies, which he felt the very idea of was going to earn him swift punch in the face from Harmon with how much risk it took.

"So...where do we go from here? What's the next part of the plan?" Harmon whispered directly into Fisk's ear, taking care for his voice not to be drowned out by the crowd.

"I'm...uhhh...working on it." Fisk admitted nervously. Not wanting to stand out, the two started to roam around the lobby in order to blend in, and play their parts correctly.

"HEY! YOU TWO!" The voice they heard nearly made them jump out of their fur with how much it surprised them. "Yeah! You two there! You got raspberry jam in your ears or sumfin?!" They slowly turned around, beguiled at the wide appearance of the black dog dressed in dirty blue overalls, along with a belt of handyman tools and several key rings. Harmon affirmed in his mind that he was most likely the head custodian of the establishment.

"I've been calling you for the past minute in a half, and you just stood there lollygagging like a bunch of dummies!"

"S-sorry sir!" Fisk said with a more deeper tone of voice in attempts to hide his age. "We were just distracted by all of the decorations! There all so...uh...pretty...awesome! Pretty awesome to look at!" Harmon blew a sigh of relief in his head, teetering on the edge that they might have been found out by Fisk's sudden turn of phrase. Though the feeling began to come back as he investigated the boys a little closer, examining their attire and even body structure.

"Hmmm...never seen you two around here before... And your uniform is barely dirty..." Fisk quickly scanned around the room, trying to find some sort of defense or at best a weapon in case they would need to get themselves out of what is looking to be a eventual situation. At the last second, Harmon coughed loudly, snapping Fisk back into attention.

"We just started here." Harmon spoke in a surprisingly brusk and rough sounding voice that put Fisk's earlier attempt to shame."We were transferred here from the McNealson company. They told us that the building was owned by a pretty important guy, so we decided to have our uniforms pressed and clean for the job. For appearances sake and all. Is that problem?"

"Depends on who you ask." The head janitor snorted through his nose in intimidation, trying to get under the boys skin."But since I'm the head custodian here, the questions are coming from me, so I hope you won't mind them. Will THAT be a problem?" He said redirecting the question back at the boys, who both shook their head in acknowledgement."Good. But...wait, you said from the McNealson company right?"

Fisk took a deep breath as he noticed the quick save that Harmon provided for him, which he felt shouldn't have been neccessary in an operation of his concoction. He was grateful in his mind, but did not ask for it. _I would have rather we have gotten caught_. He thought to himself. Deciding to let it slide out of his mind, he cleared his throat, moving to take back the reigns.

"Yes sir!" He said with a clear yet mature voice, much better than his last. "Come handpicked from the boss himself. We were told this event was gonna need as many hands on deck as possible, and that you were the person to take orders from to make the most out of it..." Pausing to take a breath, he quickly scanned for a name tag on the head custodian or any form of identification, finding out just past the left of his chest, covered slightly in dirt, and just barely being able to make the most out of it. "Mr. Leslie?" Saying his name with such an inquisitive tone would make anyone suspicious, thankfully it had the opposite effect as the head raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Wow, I'm surprised that old bastard McNealson actually bothers to make good on his promises sometimes!" Leslie chuckled." Not only did he send me some guys that can lend me a hand here compared to other slackers around here, he sent me his very best! I guess those poker nights count for something!" He nodded in approval of the boys, rubbing the back of his nape in fatigue. "Well, if that's the case, you couldn't have come at a better time. The event is about to start, and my 'former' assistant as of today is off goofing around somewhere. Probably somewhere in the storage closet with the boss's secretary. So I'm gonna need all the help I can get around here for cleaning up after these rich folks. Since you boys obviously come at recommendation, you won't have a problem with me sticking you with the heavy duty stuff will ya?"

" **No sir!"** The simultaneous response from both of them was more than enough to assure him that they could handle the job.

"Good answer! No then...uhh..." Leslie paused in suspense, as if waiting for certain words to fill the void. Fisk then realized what that was exactly, their names.

"Oh! They call me...Blackie! And this is my partner Jonesey!" Harmon frowned at the ad lib of their names, but shrugged in compliance, as he figured out it wasn't that far from the truth.

"Blackie, and Jonesey eh?" Leslie then shrugged. "Well, I ain't one to judge as if you couldn't tell by my name, but whatever. Anyway, since the party hasn't kicked into full swing yet, you guys don't have to worry about the ground floor too much, but we do need someone on the top floor near the boss's office to clean up after him. Lord knows he might get a little tipsy before his big moment, so we'll need someone to clean up after him."

"I'll head up there!" Harmon eagerly volunteer, earning a nod of approval from the head janitor.

"Well...all right then Jonesey, it's all you then. In the meantime Blackie, follow me to the presentation room where the party is gonna be held. There's some still some prepping to handle in there.

"You got it boss!"

Harmon then pushed the garbage can carrying his equipment past the droves of high class citizens towards the elevator, while Fisk headed in the opposite direction. With a slight indication, they both nodded at each other, affirming that both of them had been sticking to the plan, and that they were ready to put it into action.

Stepping into the elevator box, Harmon scanned the different buttons leading to the floors of the building, pressing the top most, assuming it to be where Talcott in question would be.

 _"So you're saying that the radio might be in his office somewhere?"_ Harmon pondered the previous discussion of what was to be done with Fisk, despite that statement being no more than pure speculation on Fisk's part.

 _"Yeah! I mean, the last people to take it from him was his son's in laws right? So wouldn't it be right to assume that the head honcho of the family has it stored neatly somewhere in his office?"_

 _"That's why it's nothing more than an assumption."_

 _"C'mon dude. You're telling me if you had something THAT valuable like an old WWII radio, you wouldn't keep that by your side at all times? Not only that, he's the CEO of his own company. I bet he hardly leaves his office, so it would be somewhere that he would be able to check on it at all times."_

Harmon felt himself smirking at his partners almost sound logic, but not quite enough to be fully impressed by it. But perhaps he admired the simplicity of it. Sneak into the office, locate the radio, somehow avoid detection, while at the same time, Fisk will cause a ruckus downstairs, throwing off all suspicions towards him, and when he receives the radio, they would make their getaway. He considered him someone that was capable of formulating a plan, but never one to fill in holes where they are obviously required.

 _That's why I'm here, I suppose._ He thought to himself as he shrugged indifferently.

The elevator floor bell went off as the momentum from being carried up the shaft ceased, bringing him to attention. Stepping out of the box, he was immediately caught in the eyesight of the nearby secretary, peeking vigilantly over her large desk. \

"Can I help you?" She said with a straightforward tone, almost putting Harmon in a deadlock, thinking he had been exposed already, though he kept his cool.

"Yeah, I...uh...was sent here by Leslie to clean the CEO's office."

The secretary raised an eyebrow for a brief moment, scanning Harmon's clothes and taking him for face value as another custodian, causing her to draw a sultry smile.

"I...see. I've never seen you around here before. Did you just start here today?" She quickly traded her previous abrasive like tone for one that was slightly suggestive in its delivery. A trad eoff that Harmon took very quick notice of, and decided to follow up on.

"Something like that. I'm only temping at the moment for the party tonight, so I won't be sticking around for long unfortunately."

"Ohhh. That's too bad, I really would have liked to see more of you if you decided to stay around." She smiled so largely that dimples began to show in her cheeks, and bending over the desk with her open blouse, hoping he would catch a peak of her clevage

"Maybe you will, maybe you won't. Depends on how the night goes." Giving an almost eluding statement but at the same time being completely vague was usually Harmon's style when it came to chatting up females, a trait that has caught their attention many times. Though he wish it were another situation, he kept his mind focused on the task, and brought the topic back on track.

"Anyway, could you let the boss know that I'm coming in there to clean his office now?"

"I'm afraid he is meeting with his daughter at the moment."

"His daughter?" He raised his eyebrow inquisitively, wondering if the daughter mentioned was the same daughter that ended up marrying 's son, putting him immediately in a strange but reasonable thought. Could it be possible that the daughter had something to do with Harvey's death? From what the old man let on, it almost likely that the death was orchestrated by the Talcott family in order to squander him for his belongings, mainly the radio. He shook his head, not letting himself get too ahead of the situation.

"Yes, he hasn't seen her in sometime I heard. He sent her several invites to the event tonight, but she never once replied to any of them." She then beckoned Harmon, lending his ear to whisper."I heard that they've been on bad terms ever since she got married a few years back. Apparently she was supposed to marry some rich guy, but then ended up running off with some doctor guy. Because of that, her dad disowned her from the family, and she's been on her own ever since then."

"I see." He had a content face on the outside, but on the inside, his brain was going for a loop. From the story, he had the preconceived image that she was some kind of spoiled princess that ran away with some commoner simply just to spite her father for not letting her have her way. Then again, for all her knew, that could still be the case.

"But then again, you can't believe rumors. That's just what I heard around the water cooler." She eased out of Harmons personal space, but not before sneaking a whiff of his scent, basking in its aroma."But if you want, you can wait out here for their business to finish, before heading-

Suddenly the large doors leading into the CEO's office shot open, with the daughter of the president in question marching out as if she had a commanding presence that wanted everyone to take notice of, made more apparent by the loud tapping made by her heel shoes.

"Oh! Ms. Linda, have you finished your business with-?"

"I have finished it! And I'm finished with him as well!" She yelled out as she strode past the desk, going straight for the elevator. In the midst of her walking past him, Harmon noticed a small sparkling detail leave the confines of her purse and drop to the floor. Crouching down to investigate, he noticed it was a blue diamond necklace, calling him to remember the story of 's story yet again. His eyes shot open in realization, yielding his previous thoughts.

The elevator door opens, and Linda stepped hastily in the box and pressing the button to the ground floor. Just as the doors began to close, Harmon sprinted across the floor to hold the door open, in almost no seconds flat across a six feet distance from the desk to the elevator, putting his finger between the scanner preventing it from closing. Linda jumped up in surprise at his sudden speed, never in her life seeing anyone moving so fast in so little time.

"You forgot something." Harmon held out his arm, dropping the necklace into Linda's hand, which she extended out unconsciously. She looked down at it, affirming the contents of it, and its meaning to her.

"Ah. T-thank you." She said softly.

Nodding with confirmation, he stepped back off the elevator, allowing the doors to close in front of him. He stood there pondering, in attempts to put the pieces of the story together. Hearing another's footsteps behind him, he turned around to the very man in question of his and Fisk's case.

"Ah. President Talcott.!" The secretary jumped out of her chair in shock, standing at attention. Harmon wasn't surprised by her reaction. Just looking at him from a distance was enough to intimidate even him with how commanding and authoritative it was. A smile broke through that massive aura he felt.

"At ease Mira. There's no need to be so alarmed. Taking time to talk with my beloved daughter after so many years has put me in a rather positive mood." The words that came out soothed the secretary's ears, being almost unable to look at his supposed radiance. Only one person standing in the room saw through the facade however, and it was on that decades younger than himself, though has been around to see all manner of people.

"Oh yes! Of course! This man is here to-"

"No need to say another word. I'm fully aware that I sent for someone to clean my office not that long ago, and he is here right on schedule." He then directed his eyes towards the custodian in question."Now that you are here, perhaps you can get down to business, Mr..."

Harmon braced himself from the oncoming events that were coming his way, and pictured Fisk was about to engage in the same manner of business.

"Jones sir. But please...call me Jonesy."

 **Blue Diamond Blues PART 2 END**


	4. Episode 4:Blue Diamond Blues Part 3

**Buckhead,Georgia**

 **Lawson Building a.k.a. Talcott Industries**

 **May 10th 198X 4:10**

Now that he was inside of the destination itself, Harmon could clearly see why Kendrick Talcott was in such a position of power and respect. Almost every medal, certificate and award were all stuck out on his shelves in an obnoxious fashion. He scoffed on the inside, with the prospect that he wanted everyone to notice his accomplishments, to be jealous, look in awe, concerned about their own position in the world compared to theirs. He knew such a stance very well.

"Does it not suit the room admirably?" Talcott's sudden question snapped Harmon out of his trance, continuing to dust between the various awards.

"Umm...yes it does sir. It's a a lot of nice...stuff, you got here." Harmon said, still playing his role to a perfect degree.

"The award you're dusting around, I was given that by the Mayor of New York in 1971, for my accomplishments on Wall Street for patching a huge hole in the economy at the time. I was reluctant to receive the award considering I was just doing my job, but I took it upon myself to accept it anyway." Bragging was the last thing Harmon wanted to listen to, but the situation more or less demanded that he did, if he wanted to get any closer to his goal. Getting the radio.

"One thing that is always common with a person in my position is the credibility that ebbs towards you, the providence that you had performed a grand prospect for a just cause, the power that comes from the will of others putting their own trust in you." Harmon paused his search, as a particular word drew him in towards his innate bragging, **power**."The trust that one receives from others is...indispensable to say the least, and to say it's something that is required for escalation into society would be an absolute understatement. But for me, it is something more than just tool to get me that shiny new promotion or, that nice lavish beach home in Tahiti courtesy of the mayor. It's represents...what's the word I'm looking for now?"

A sharp crack could be heard echoing in the room. Talcott whipped his head around to find the source of the disturbance, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the motion of Harmon stretching his neck,. A bored expression cleverly hidden from the CEO from the topic of discussion. It was topic he knew all too well, and had even managed to grasp the full extent of its meaning. A meaning of which that can be connected to many different things, and can effect different people in countless ways, whether it would be positive or negative. Harmon knew about such an ability all to well in his past, but had scoffed at the idea of reminiscing on it for the sake of humoring the man that has built his fortune on the lives of others, his pride wouldn't let him. At least that's how he saw it.

"Ummm...big importantness?" Harmon gave a gruff and belligerent answer, and even looked back at Talcott, anticipating his reaction to be one of displeasure. To his surprise, it was the exact opposite, with a charming smile forming from his lips. Walking over towards one of the mountainous bookshelves, scanning each of the books with a finger running across each of the spines.

"You know...I always enjoy talking to blue collar workers such as yourself. I always feel some sort of personal connection with them, as if I'm conversing with a relative of sorts." He then pulled out a book from the higher shelves to skim through, with his back conviently turned. Noticing the opportunity appear from the corner of his eye, Harmon quickly snuck around the room, looking for anything out of place that might give some indication on where to look next. He silently chuckled expecting his search to be somewhat similar to a spy thriller, with the evil unsuspecting villain clearly in his range, and being careful not to reveal his true intention.

"You used to do some handy work yourself boss?"Harmon said while cycling through the various bookshelves on his side of the room, as well under the leather couches sitting in the middle.

"Why yes. After I graduated high school, I moved to Indiana for a little while, and ended up working in a steel mill for a few years. Jackson Steel Mills. Though to be perfectly honest, I did it less for the experience of being in the workforce, but mainly just to escape from the reign of my bothersome parents."

"Is that right?" He replied with a half interested tone. After only about twenty seconds of inspecting, Harmon returned to his cleaning pose by the time Talcott turned around, barely offering any suspicion to his actions.

"Yes, I have indeed been seeking my means for power nearly my whole life. A small town perspective allows for a rather broad way of looking at such a term.

 _I couldn't possibly relate._ Harmon took a small pair of a broom and dustpan and cleaned around the desk. As if by some sort of instinct, Talcott ceased his cleaning with a loud cough.

"Your cleaning doesn't need to be that extensive young man." He said in a calm yet throatcutting tone. A tiny smirk formed on Harmon's face as he backed away from the expensive looking desk, and stood up by the edge.

"Sorry 'bout that boss. Is there uh...anywhere you would like me to clean?"

Though it wasn't his intention, Talcott got a better look at the "custodian" that was cleaning up his office, noticing his more than obvious youthful appearance. Harmon kept cool in his face, not wanting to draw attention to himself in his expression. Luckily, Talcott shrugged his suspicion, throwing it as pure nonsense that an intruder could find his way into his privates that easily.

"Not in particular. But if you would, you could clean up around the glass furniture, namely the table, my awards and just other knick knacks that you might find look out of place. I don't really stay in my office that much due to me always being on the move, plus my other employees are usually cleaning somewhere else, so I almost have no earthly idea how much of it is required." Kendrick started point around random spots around his office, which judging by his flailing, they were nowhere interesting to Harmon, though he had little choice but to check them all.

"In other words, I'm pretty much leaving it up to your better judgement on that part Mr. Jonsey. That IS your job, correct?"

"Last time I checked." He lightly jabbed himself for letting such a careless line slip. Talcott didn't seem to mind, or perhaps it flew over his shoulder as he gave no response. Harmon walked over to the spots that were pointed out and just started cleaning them with any of the tools that could sell the illusion. Talcott himself had went back over to his desk, taking out some files and other documents from his desk. Though his back was turned, Harmon could tell it was a huge stack paper judging by the sound it made landing on the desk.

 _That most certainly sounds like something palpable._ He thought to himself. In his mind, he was already drawing several possiblities that could lead to him finding out more about the accident, seeing as how that was the mystery that was elluding him and Fisk the most. _So far, all we know about the accident is that old man Ronson's son was involved, and that the insurance drawback was huge. But there were no records found from his end, so it's most likely that the records on the crash would be somewhere in his possession, and in close proximity._ He did have his doubts however, though he shook his head at the negative thought. _This is no time to second guess_. A new look of determination had formed on his face. He had to get those papers, for better or for worse. A smile formed as the gears in his heads started to turn.

"Say, Talcott?" He called out to the CEO in an informal tone, quickly catching his attention.

"I'll forgive you for referring to me in such a manner, for the sake your youth and hard working lifestyle that will get you somewhere, for now anyway. Yes, ?"

"About that uh...talk you were having about power, and how it can used in different ways depending on your perspective?" Harmon then turned around, tipping his hat further down his face to hide his cunning smirk among other things."I have a few cents I could give on that subject."

The man in power raised a curious eyebrow at the young man with the dirty overalls, eager to hear his words.

"Go on..."

 _Okay, I'm this close to tossing someone out of a window into the middle of traffic at this rate._ At this point, I didn't even have to wonder about what kind of upper crusted asshole would ask me to fetch them a panini, or whatever kind of fancy seeming name they give them. For god sakes, they're little sandwiches people! Address them as such!

Wheeling my trash can with my dirty smuckers on was probably the best chance I had for people to ignore me, and not stick me with any annoying requests, like trying to turn down the AC, or closing the blinds in the lobby so the sun doesn't get too much in their eyes. I may clean here, but I'm nobodies maid. Hehehe, I just made one of those double meaning sentences Harmon is always going on about. I kept getting weird and shifty looks, as if these guys could see right through me, either that or they were just that stunned by my good looks. Either way, I would have to prepp myself for a quick bust out if my disguise fell through here, which judging by the guards posted at almost every corner, it would most likely mean a brawl. I may have been short one badass named Harmon, but I could take care of myself until I found a way out.

MY plan was going almost as smoothly as I ice cream I was eating on the way over here when I came up with it. As much as it was improvised, it had some things that I would call pretty legit by planning standards, not that it's not my forte, I just prefer action to strategy. To pull of a distraction in a room with this many people, I would have to set off a bomb or some rapid fire crackers to even get a reaction out of these people. Here I was thinking that pantsing that guy that keeps lifting his pinky in the air everytime he drinks the glass of apple juice.

My ears rang with how much noise these guys were making, stuff ranging from scandals to other blue blood rumors, about who slept with who while they were on vacation, so I decided to take my action through the crowd into the backroom doors. Following the signs down the hall, I ended up in the kitchen. This place looked remarkably unorganized and dirty considering the kind of lavish vibe this place was giving off. The cooks didn't look to worse for wear, which meant I could blend in perfectly. I got into character, cleaning up any leavings lying around. My eyes immediately dialed on the clock in the upper corner of the room. I sucked my teeth kinda loudly when I realized that only ten minutes had passed from the time we split up.

 _Hopefully he's not talking up chick instead of focusing on the matter at hand_.I thought to myself. I would call myself out on that on the account of having little faith in my friend, if the fact of the matter was that he wasn't doing the same with half of the female student body. Casanova would be an insult at this point.

Suddenly the door burst open behind me. I whipped my neck to see what was going on. It was some rich looking dog dressed in an all white dress suit, so pearlish it would make Barry White jealous. He looked around the kitchen in a snooty manner, nose in the air and all, as if he just had a bad time and was looking for something to blame. His eyes met with almost everyone in the kitchen with all of them looking away in fear. I felt a dangerous feeling creep up my neck. Don't you do it.

"I need my drink! Where on earth is my drink?!" He yelled out in such a prissy sounding voice, I thought his balls were being held up clean wiring."Let's see!" Don't do it. Don't you fucking do it!"You there!" As if right on cue with my worst fears, his little sausage finger wagged out at me as if trying to call one of his pets to attention. I decided to put my hands in my pocket, to avoid the obvious rolling up of the fists as I walked up to him. As soon as he took two steps back, any doubts Harmon had about my ideas for disguises just got run over by a car.

"Where is my Bloody Mary?! I ordered it over five minutes ago!" I sized this guy up, with a look of wonder. Might want to drink that out a sippy cup instead of a glass, half pint. Yeah, he was a little taller than me, but I wondered how if he still was with a busted kneecap."If I don't have it in my hand in the next two minutes, I will be conversing with my father on such negligent service that Talcott has hired on!" He turned on his heels with his ass sticking out and marched out the room. I had about a million thoughts about what I just saw, but just going over one of them would require a whole pages worth, instead I simply sucked my teeth, eager to vent at what I had just saw and heard.

"Can't hardly believe it huh? Feast for the eyes and all that?" I heard someone talking from behind me so I turned around. It was this messy looking hyena dressed in a rather tidy tuxedo, the kind that most people that are the help wear. He was sitting down on what looked like an unopened keg of wine." Them pompous ass rich tits always try to parade around like they runnin' shit. Only thing they know how to run is they mouth, and their assess to the police whenever someone steps on their $1,200 Gators or somethin. Pfft, makes me sick to my stomach." He was putting on airs with the possiblility that someone might be listening to him. Thinking that, he then caught me in his eyesight. "You know what I mean man?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." I nodded my head with my gruft voice, pumping out my chest to further sell the image. He started to size me up, jarring his eyes up and down.

"Never seen you around here befo."

"Oh yeah. Just came in today. I'm filling in for some of the janitors that couldn't make it in today. Stomachache or some shit like that. I'm supposed to be cleaning the audience room pretty soon."

"That right?" He looked suspicious for a second, but then shrugged his shoulders."Welp, it ain't none of my business. I'm just here to serve these white folks they dinner, and hope my ass don't arrested for breathing in there air or whatever the hell they arresting brothers for doing these days." This guy clearly seems like the type to be talking on a soap box, not working in a shady looking kitchen. Something tells me he would get along great with Harmon."So, you supposed to clean in the audience room right?"

"Yup...that's what the guy outside Leslie told me to do?"

The guy scoffed.

"That fat bastards probably just giving you shit because you some kind of sub or something. He doesn't like people from other places taking in spots that's already there. Thinks it ruins the flow or something."

"That so?"

"Yeah. Even though the audience room is there, the folks in this place hardly ever use it for anything. Most of the socializing is pretty much done in the lobby, along with all the asskissing and news reporters."

"That's weird." My statement matched the kind of thoughts I was having on this whole revelation.

"Not really. I don't know if you know this, but rich people like these guys, can't STAND being in the same room with each other, much less in the same vicinity or even smelling them. The audience room is pretty much there only for aesthetic purposes, to make the guy up top look good, but nobody really uses it for any big announcements, or whatever supposed to be happening."

A few hairs started to stand up on my back. This was already starting to look a little bleak concerning the plan. We wanted to go for a mass disruption in the place where the most people were gathered in the largest room possible, but maybe I could turn it around at this rate.

"So the lobby is probably the place where the conference will be held?" I asked him.

"I honestly don't know. Even though the papers say something, I heard from some of the guys here that it ain't at all sunshin and rainbows for the big man."

My face lit up with intrigue, now I know how Harmon feels."Oh? What's that?"

The guy than looked over his shoulders, looking at the other help brushing past each other with large platters going outside of the door, and wondering if he had to go and help anytime soon. Whatever he wanted me to believe was farther from the truth of him being a hard worker, or a worker that hardly worked. He took care to turn down the volume on his voice, making sure no one but us was in earshot. The exception being that anyone that would find a conversation between a dude in overalls and a help interesting, but I do like where this is going.

"Well, you didn't hear it from me, but I heard it from this guy that works upstairs whose fucking the boss' secretary that this is actually his last chance to get any recognition from his project that he's doing."

"Really? I thought this guy was a huge stockbroker back in his day."

"That's what they say on them daytime shows about him. You know to pomp up his image, make him seem like some humanatarian. Opening up schools and recreational areas here and there, but it's all just an act man. He's more broke than Johnny B down the fucking street."

The info dump that Harmon gave then clicked into place with what I was hearing. If this guy is really in the dumps financially, then it seems he would be desperate enough to at least gather money to put fuel in his private jet, including putting together this fluff of a party as well as using the local goons to strongarm the store owners downtown.

"And not only that, I hear he owes a hell of a lot of money to one of the Four Kings too." I cocked my head in confusion, thinking on that name.

"Never heard of them. They some kind of big group?"

"Damn man, don't you live here?"

"Not in this part of town." I shrugged.

"The Four are the biggest cats in the state. They run everything, man. Drugs, cars, women, gambling rings, you name it. Each of the kings has they own slice of the pie, sucking up profits from all the businesses and people, and using for their own gain. Word is, they're trying to break into the national game as well."

"Who are they? Does anyone even know?"

The guy took a breath, looking in both directions before speaking again. I took note of the cautionary look on his face as he told me.

"There's people who know. **But they ain't drinking their morning tea anymo'**...if you catch my drift..." I felt some sweat roll down my neck as the heat seemed to have gotten cranked up all of a sudden, or at least that's what I think it was.

"Yeah, I follow you."I said quietly as to not alert anyone. I could tell he was trying to scare into dropping the topic, even having the look of regret of even bringing it up. But I decided to pull a Harmon, and pressed further despite the subtle warning."But does that mean Talcott is working for the-"

A loud bang went off as the kitchen doors flew open, and I ended up tripping up my sentence. In came stomping a burly ass white dog in a tuxedo as if he woke up with the fancy pin on his jacket, my guess he was one of the managers of the building, and yet another creek to swim up to keep this middle school act up.

"What the hell are we paying you fucking slackers for?! Get back to work!"

I was prone to move to get back into my role, but the actual working joes didn't even budge an inch. I could start to see the veins in the dude's head start to pop. Either this was a sit in, or these guys obviously don't think much of authority here. I wanna say the latter though. As soon as I thought that, one of the busboys snorted so loud you could hear the booger in his nose go back up. The big guy walked over with the look of scorn only old money babies get by practicing in the mirror, nothing but scorn in the face of not getting your way."Is there something you find funny boy?"

"Nothing at all...sir... I was just so busy reveling in your presence, I plum forgot to breathe." Oh shit, this guy must have some cajones to talk to someone standing on a pillar he didn't even put in the work to make. I don't normally have a problem with authority, but it never hurts to make your position clear when it comes to it.

"If you have time to snark your betters, you have time to do your job! In fact..." He said as he walked over to the sink, pulling up a plate from the drying grate. He started to inspect every nook and crany of its gleam. From where I was standing, I couldn't see anything visibly wrong with it. All of a sudden he placed the plate in the air, and brought it down to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces against the impact."Now you have a new job I see. Cleaning up this mess, before someone injures themselves." A putrid smirk filled his face as he looked down on the busboy. The busboy didnt even flinch from the looks of it, he took a breif look at the shattered plate and shrugged.

"I clean **plates** man. I don't sweep up shit." The guy made his lips fly as well his hands, waving around in the big dogs face.

"Are you defying me boy?"

"Don't be calling me no boy now. Like you're some kind of penguin from upstairs. You ain't nothing but a pencil pusher trying to throw his own shitty weight around. Nothing but a boot licker with collar around him." Before I knew it, a tremendous sound filled the room and the busboy went flying, soon hitting the floor. His fist stood over the busboy still shaking from the impact, standing over him in swelled pride. My feet had started to move as soon as I saw that piece of shit smile form on his face, suddenly I felt a hand with a strong grip from tuxedo guy holding me back on my arm. I looked back on him noticing the look of caution staring back at me.

"Don't do it." Is what his eyes told me, knowing exactly what my next move was about to be. Good thing he did, I pretty much would have blown me and Harmon's cover right then and there. Gritting my teeth, I pulled back my intentions, taking a deep breath and standing back to my position before anyone else could see me move.

"As long as boot licking is concerned, I don't have to worry who is licking mine, now do I?" He said with that jarring smug smile. That same smile that only comes from the ones who think they have all of the cards in their hands just as long as they share just an iota of power. I've seen those type of people nearly my whole life, with their only desire to was to make the others who either didn't share their worldview or didn't do what they wanted, grovel, writhe, worship them, there could be tons of words I could name for it if I wasn't pressed for time and didn't have a job to do. The suited dog left the room as the busboy laid there sprawled on the floor. My hands felt like they could bend metal with how hard I felt them tighten up.

All the other members of the kitchen staff rushed to help the little guy out. I decided to opt out, seeing as how I had a job to do. Doing whatever I had to do to make a big enough ruckus, the old couple will have to call the cops on the party next door. I was more motivated than ever to make that happen. I knew what kind of people, and even moreso this Talcott guy, was all about.

"Time to make this happen." I exited the kitchen from the back and headed down the hallway, while covering my face with the tongue of hat to avoid any suspicion. Just before exiting, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the ironsides I was just talking to watching me make my exit. What he said stuck in my mind enough to want to turn heel around and ask him for info with a little more assertion. **The Four**? Whatever they were, they definitely need to hire a publicist for that name.

Harmon had a solution to his problems, but it didn't seem like the easy way out for him, not by a long shot. Talcott waited for him to say another word, his eyes leering with expectation that even Harmon himself was rather anxious to meet. He spoke of power, but obviously to Talcott, the man who managed to craft his own, had many ways of seeing such a term. Harmon on the other hand, only knew of one.

"So, I'm waiting young man." Talcott sat himself down for spell, knowing that his interest was caught."I'm waiting to hear about what someone in...your station could retail to me about power."

"I ass-" Harmon paused."I'm sure that a big honcho like yourself, has to have heard of other people being able to...make certain things happen due to the well being of others serving to your own britches." He said in his best gruff voice. His voice strained upon speaking that he was tempted to go with his normal tone. He was almost positive that Talcott had caught on somewhat.

"Hmm...yes." Talcott stroked his chin." A rather elementary way of viewing one's dominance over others, but what you speak of is simply superiority in the right to rule. Confidence that your authority is the one the tramples everything in your path."His eyes closed briefly.

 _Now!_ By his calculations, Harmon had about 3-4 seconds before he would probably open them again. He got back to work, moving around the room in a silent and fast flurry that only a slow motion camera could spot him. In his experience, he was usually given less time to carefully and hastily scour around his surroundings. The couch, the bookshelves, the busts that stood by the door. He searched all of them with deafening swiftness. His search was centered around some kind of proof of Talcott's involvement in the recent attacks and assaults done by the gangs. It all felt too closely knit for Harmon to see it any other way. The debt collections, this whole get together for the new recreation sites with a seemingly mysterious amount being funded toward the event itself. Everything rose in curiousity in his mind.

By the time, Talcott opened his eyes again, four seconds had passed by Harmon's very breath takings, and he was right in the position that he remembered him standing in center parallel to his desk with nary a change about him.

"But true power, in my opinion comes from something entirely different." He said."Can you guess what that is?"Talcott looked at him with earnest eyes, anticipating his best guess. But underneath that amicable expression, was someone who had no faith in the answer that he could give him. The very knowledge that nooone besides him could understand his meaning of the question. Harmon could see right through such an act. That play was something he was familiar with, and could even call himself a prodigal student. He already found giving an answer redundant no matter what guise he was under. To call it with true or false intentions would give him no satisfaction to his goals. So he did what any upstanding blue collar worker would do for such a philosophical query. He shrugged his shoulders.

"You amuse me." Talcott chuckled."I must say, with all of the people I have asked that question to, you are the first to give me such a unique response."

"Hate to say it boss, but I thinks it's pretty obvious from this uniform, high school was kicking my ass."

He laughed, as if he knows the statement was a joke in it of itself. He started to rub the smooth surface of his desk, complete with well crafted wood. Talcott's eyes fell directly on Harmon, measuring every detail of his body, smiling at the end of it.

"You are definitely not what I placed you for originally." He chuckled.

" What do you mean?"

"I thought you were some kind of backwater blue collar simpleton who had a speech imediment. Not only have you managed to catch my interest with this topic, you managed to hold my attention for more than a minute." He straightned his tightened tie."That is an absolute luxury." Though generaly cool, Harmon himself would get that butterfly feeling in his stomach at times. This was one of them. "That only happens very rarely with individuals who have seen what I've seen, or have fabricated a lie that they themselves find themselves comfortable with."

"Listen, buddy." Harmon could feel his sweat run down. "I got about five hallways to clean after this. If you don't mind, I'm just going to take my equipment."He pointed toward the trash can stocked with cleaning tools."And head on downstairs. Sorry for wasting your time like this." Harmon decided that he probably wasn't going to find the records of nearly black cased crash in his office with his personal belongings. He was too smart to be seen with such a predictable pattern. Even if he wanted to search it with the most extensive methods he could, although he would have to brought his actual equipment to do so. There must be somewhere that it could be, or maybe it might have not been in this building to begin with.

With these thoughts in mind, Harmon made his way to the exit, pushing his can across the lavish carpet to the door. Upon opening the door, Talcott pushed a button hidden under his desk. A noise went off. Placing his hands on the knob of the door expecting it to open normally found it not budging an inch. Harmon snapped his head back in confusion.

"Hey...uh boss guy. Does the door lock from the inside or something? Or is this one of them new age doors with the automatic locks that I read about in the newspapers? I tell you man, the things they're coming up with these days. What's next, phones that you can carry around?! Damn, I tell you what." In the midst of his rambling, Talcott face remained unfazed. He slowly walked around his desk, unbuttoning the first bottom buttons of his blazer.

"Who sent you?" He said.

"Umm...my supervisor at the union downtown. He really gets in my ass when I don't leave a job well done, lemme tell you. Just last week he-"

"Your facade is wearing thin." Talcott said in a deadpan tone. Harmon felt a spear go through his chest."That T.V. trucker act might have been good enough for the idiots downstairs but me. Well, let's say I've seen enough people to spot their true faces for what they are."He then smirked as if discovering a revelation in his midst."But in your case...I see **two** faces that you wear."

Harmon breathed heavily through his nose, his nostrils flaring outwards to Talcott.

"Listen pal...I don't know what kind of sick shit you're into, but leave me the hell out of it. I gotta job to do." Harmon continued to dance around the lie. Talcott cleared his throat as if winding up for grand monologue that anyone in his presence would be indulged to hear, just for the sake of hearing him speak.

"Indeed you do it seems. But I'll leave it up to you for which job it is that requires your attention more. Just know this." Harmon felt like he was walking on thin ice at this point. Droplets of sweat rolled down his neck. "The power, that I referred to, it is not something that you can gain easily through simple inheritance, or just working your hardest like they tell you in school. It takes sacrifice. The tribute of anyone that is nothing but a footnote in your conquest. You understand such a process don't you? I can see it in your eyes." Harmon felt like his soul was being read just from looks alone. He needed a plan.

Quick thinking would be ideal for escaping, but he knew that the opposition was too smart, no, too cunning to see through such a plan. A quick jab to the throat, followed by an elbow strike to throw off his balance, allowing to gain the upper hand for a throw, or possibly a sleeper hold depending on the angle of his groggy state. Harmon stood no more than 5"8, while Talcott seemed to stand more than 6"1. The reach would be a problem, but he would probably make deal by attacking lower pressure points to gain him leverage in height. He envisioned the entire process in his mind, replaying it several times to visually imprint in his subconcious, and simply tell his body what to do. But execution wasn't going as planned. It was impeded by something he never would have thought possible to feel within the presence of a potential enemy. His attention.

"You want to do something, don't you?" He said to Harmon. He felt a force launch up through his body. That very force turned into motion in his arms as he saw Talcott get only a few feet closer to him. His mouth began to animate, and within seconds sound would leave his tongue to form words. "Go on then, I'm waiting for your move."

For a brief second, Harmon felt the world stand still, his blood turned to cold steel, and his mind shifted as all of the forces that made up his mind came to a centerpoint . Finally, the mask dropped, revealing the hollow self.

"Your power...your reign that you lay down onto others. Is nothing but a means of compensating for what you lack." He said, looking up at him. He approached, until he got closer and closer. He towered over Harmon, looking down at the past from where he was standing.

"My power, compensation, you say."

"Power this, power that. You say the word, but you have no idea what it means. A man who has built his capital on the blood of others. Nothing uncommon, I assure you. Such methods are what encapsulate the ideals of the great and wonderous place we call our country. But sacrifice is not a means to you, it is a way of life. To have authority over others with the threat of a knife dangling at the knape of their neck or a foot pressed down on their face. All the parades of a person who feels he has to exert force to get what he wants, instead of simply commanding it. As all people in such a position should."

"What do you know, child?" He asked, snarling through his teeth."What do you know of what I gave to make it here?"

"More than you ever will fool. I held your so called 'power' once. It was an overated experience."

"You held power? Someone as young as you?" Talcott chuckled."I find that hard to believe.

"It doesn't matter what you believe. Because I have a new power. One that doesn't come at the expense of other's well beings."

Talcott and Harmon felt a rift between them. It was one neither of them dared to cross, but could see each other clearly despite the large distance. It wasn't the qualms of power that divided them, it was their way of life. One had it thrust upon them, the other had to grasp it for themselves. Harmon on the other hand felt something more. A ticking in his head that he could hear no matter how hard he tred to drown it out from the fierce glare of the man in front of him.

"Who sent you?" He fumed through his face."Was it those neanderthals from Wall Street? The lobbyists from Washington?!"

"I'll tell you who sent me..." Harmon fumed through his nose with the hot air smoothing along Talcott's face. His head centered with Harmons waiting for his next sentence to be delivered. He took a deep breath, sucking in his chest for a major contraction. At last he spoke.

"Worker's Union." He said, along with his blunt sound of voice, throwing off Talcott from the surprise turn of phrase."And the power I hold is the power of household appliances along budget cuts, and cutthoat taxes to my paycheck!" He tapped the name tag on his chest. "Once again, the name is Jonesy, and if it matters at all to you boss man. I would like very much to clean your office, get my partner and get the hell out of here before the bar closes. Think you can do me that solid?"

Talcott stood sternly through Harmon's speech. He rubbed his chin, grinning in admiration at the navigation of options the so called blue collar work took with his words. More than admired actually, he was impressed.

"Hmmm...so be it." He shrugged his shoulders in compliance with the lie. "As you say Jonesy."

"Mr. President!" A loud buzzing sound went off from his desk. The both of them snapped their head at the sudden blare. Talcott sighed, turning back around to his desk, irritated at the sudden interuption. Harmon quickly collected himself, not wanting to expose himself any further then neccessary. Talcott was wary, but he still wasn't that much wiser as to the truth. He loosened his uniform to allow for more breathing room. The Georgia sun that he was so attached to gleamed in his eye, putting him at ease. It was a lull that needed no words for him.

"What is it? I'm still preparing for the conference tonight." Talcott spoke in an obviously irritated tone of voice, but not of anger. His attendant could be heard stammering on the other line.

"That's the thing sir. There seems to be some sort of disturbance downstairs that's greatly upsetting the guests." She said.

"A disturbance?" He raised an eyebrow."Of what sort?"

"One of the custodians seems to be throwing the food at the guests, specifically the chicken soup while calling them old money hags." Harmon was estastic on the inside, knowing exactly what was going on, and relieved at the same time knowing that the plan was still underway.

"Very well." He straightned his neck tie once more."I will head down there once I finish my business in my office." He winced slightly, peeking at the "business" from the side of his eye.

"With all due respect sir, you must come to the lobby. Apparently security is having trouble with the assailant as well. Five of the officers have already been incapacitated."

"Incapacitated?" Talcott said dumbfounded. Many of the security officers he had recruited for his new location scouted straight out of the finest guard schools in Atlanta, capable of diffusing any sort of riot situation with precision. And they were all taken out by a janitor of all things. Could this night possibly bring anything else to the plate?"Very well then. I'm coming down now."

"Please hurry sir!" Talcott clicked off the intercom and made his way around the desk, heading to the door while keeping his eye locked on the other "custodian". Was this some kind of coup of some kind? Revolution for the unpaid workers? Or possibly visitors with some kind of agenda.

Harmon tipped his hat as he brushed past him, assuring him that he had nothing to worry about, and that nothing else would set him towards anything else.

"It seems your ally is causing quite the commotion downstairs."

"Guess he started drinking early. He gets kinda...rowdy whenever he spots a good bottle of wine."

"So it seems. Hopefully we will see each other before the event is over . I would very much like to see you again."

"C'mon. You got better things to do than wasting time with a joe schmoe like me boss man. I'm here to do my my job and nothin' else."

"Very well. I will leave you to your work." Talcott approached the door, placing his hands on the knob and turning it slowly until it opened, slipping through its space. He stopped just before heading out."I'm expecting nothing to be disturbed in my office. Not a hair out of place."

Harmon clicked his teeth, acknowledging the request."You got it."

The door slowly closed behind him.

Within seconds. Harmons posture returned to his usual slouch. His head looked around from one corner of the room to the next. Having some clue of what belonged and what didn't from his brief search from ealier, he immediately went to the familiar parts of the office, truly beginning his through search. The goal was simple. Some proof. Any kind of proof that could be used as evidence that Talcott had something to do the mysterious death of 's son. The arrangement of the debt handlings that pushed him so far down the drain, sunlight was only a dream.

Although the entirety of the evidence's existence was nothing more than Fisk's gut feeling, especially being in a place as cliche as the holders office.

Wanting to get that suspicion out of the way, he quickly searched through the drawers of the office desk. Opening it, he found nothing more than simple rennovation planning documents toward the recreational areas that would be placed in the neighborhood where Ronson's shop was located, even seeing the registration number of his building on the paper. Highlighted with the words ' _SET FOR DESTRUCTION'_ in a bright red font that it burned Harmon's eyes. It wasn't neccesarily incriminating, but useful information nonetheless. He quickly memorized the contents within seconds, flipping through the pages like a pamphlet.

Back into the drawer the papers went, and Harmon went on with his search, skimming through all of other drawers, finding more and more irrelevant paperwork. It didn't take him long to search through them all. Still no closer to the proof that he was searching for, but it was one place less that he had to go through, especially the most obvious. He felt a smirk form on his face realizing that fact. It was time to get REAL thorough.

He slid his hand across the office walls, floors, and even the bookshelves for any kind hidden devices or switches that would allow access to a hidden vault of some kind. He pictured Fisk laughing in his face at his posture of searching, looking like some kind of cartoon burglar, and the idea of there being a hidden safe to him watching to many spy flicks. Harmon wasn't the biggest fan of them. The exaggerated gadgets and colorful villains made his fur shake with pure cringe.

After about a minute of inspecting nearly everything in the office, he found nothing, but being careful not leave any sort of signs of searching or even being disturbed with touching. His experience in such an activity spoke volumes in that regard.

He placed his hand on his chin, putting himself in a thinking posture. Images of the different places that the evidence could be in manifested in his head, along with different thoughts that defined those images. He stood right in the middle of the room alone in his head, feeling the process of his brain at work. The speed of it zooming like a turbine engine, flowing through and through slipping every kind of hurdle that appeared before him, almost like the road was being laid out before him. A thousand thoughts, even a hundred thousand theories came at him all at once

After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was barely five seconds, Harmon felt the answers were clear about everything. Not just about where the proof of Charlie's death was, but everything else about this whole case. He couldn't contain in the excitement in his smile, which he sensed was rather unusual about him. Perhaps Fisk's unwanted influence was getting to him.

 _The power that comes from the well being of others_.

Harmon wiped the sweat from his neck, and kept going with his search. Though the answers were there, the time for the reveal wasn't there just yet. The whole party had to be there for it. While searching the farther side of the room's wall once more, he felt a slight draft coming from it. Even on closer inspection, he could see that part of the wall was painted as a different shade. His fingers ran across it to spot an opening of some kind. A few seconds passed, his finger stuck. He pulled back once he got a good grip, and ended up removing a chunk of the wall, which seemed to have ran for about 4-5 inches by his calculation.

Behind the wall sat a steel casing that looked almost space age compared to the classy surroundings of Talcotts office. One answer out of the way. Only a few more remained. Peeking his head inside to inspect contents, he found a single item, a picture sealed inside a neat porcelin frame. With a quizzical look, he carefully reached out to it,being careful not to trip any possible wires. Once the frame touched his fingers, he clamped down and pulled it out of the casing.

His eyes narrowed, seeing the picture of what appeared to be Kendrick Talcott himself and a much younger woman-whom Harmon could only assume was his daughter, seeing as how Ronson never mentioned his wife, which could point to her either being dead or a falling out occured- and young well dressed gray mouse with large circular glasses. Harmon sensed a familiarity about his face. It didn't take long for him to figure out that this was Leland Ronson's deceased son, Charles. His smile ringed to Harmon, finding the now deceased that they were once in a state happiness put his stomach in knots. It was a feeling that he still couldn't shake even after all he had been through.

He turned and flipped the frame, looking for any sort of hidden mechanisms or switches. He stopped once his eyes locked on a white sheet sticking out of the back. With cautious fingers, he tugged at it until it gently came loose out of the frame. By the looks of it, it was a paper that was heavily folded, even still having strong creases still imbedded in its material, meaning it was viewed multiple times over the duration its been in here. Setting the frame down on the couch, he deftly opened up the paper. His eyes raced side to side, reading the words set in the page. They were documents detailing various transactions made to a specific account. Harmon clicked his teeth noticing the scratching out of the account number by what seemed to be the ink from a pen.

He placed his finger on the page, searching the transaction history statements. The most recent date

 _June 10th 198X_. Only a month ago, a desposit was made in this mysterious account. Actually mysterious might have been exaggerating a bit, since Harmon could think of very few people who could have access to such a resource. He then took a quick glimpse at the clock on the upper side of the wall, reading as _4:25._ The press conference was due to take place in more than half an hour.

He scanned the page for the rest of the banking statements, scrolling back as far as the page could take him. His eyes suddenly stopped on a specific date **May 8th.** He searched his memory for a recollection that grabbed the picture, lining the two up in front of him.

' _May 7th- the day that Charles Ronson's body was found off the freeway.'_

 _'May 8th- a deposit of over $4,500 was posted on the account belonging to-'_

A large desposit was made in the account only a day after Ronson had been found dead, and just a year after that Leland had been saddled with a debt to pay back to Talcott. The two details came at Harmon like a truck, flashing his eyes open so wide he felt they would pop out. His face then formed in to an expression of grimace at this revelation. This was another answer Harmon thought would serve him right, but not one he neccesarily liked.

The next objective poppped in his 's precious WWII radio, that judging from his tone regarding it, must have meant the absolute world to him behind other things. It was also the reason, if not one of the reasons, that the feud between Ronson and Talcott even began in the first place. It most likely would end with it being held by either party would probably be seen as a loss. For Leland, the loss of his propety that represents the last thing he handed down to his son and possibly the only way to eat himself out of this debt. But what would be Talcott's loss, or his gains for that matter?

Harmon thought that perhaps this could serve as some proof of strong evidence of building a true case against Talcott, but he knew that was only half of the real puzzle. The radio. He wracked his head and the rest of the office, trying to find at least some iota of a clue of where it could be. It was the establishment of revealing the blackmail material Talcott had over Ronson. When it came to blackmail held by others, Harmon usually thought two things, such a thing would likely be hidden somewhere offsite or somewhere hidden on their person. If it were indeed the latter, it would only be a matter of time before Fisk would come to such a realization. That is if he would come to it.

The nice porecline floors that decorated the halls with a luxorious and lavish atmosphere for the upper class, now looked like the inside of a high school cafeteria. The walls,even the guests, were all covered in the remains of the served gourmet food. One clean spot stood out near the double doors leading into the presentation room. With a splash, that one clean spot ceased from the throw of one very upset and upstanding blue collar worker. Or at least the image of which he was selling rather well if Harmon had any say.

Fisk climbed on top of one of the dinner trolleys, taking aim at many of the agaped guests that couldn't even take the eyes off him. Within seconds, they found that eyesight covered in expired ground beef scooped up from the kitchen at the back of the friers.

"You think you can just look all fancy in your designer suits, and walk all over the guys that feed you until your fucking stomach bursts filled with the bullshit that you spew?!" Fisk yelled kicking over the plates like a child throwing a tantrum."You got me fucked up if you think I'll stand for that anymore! I'm an American citizen that has just about as many rights on the bill of rights that you guys wipe your ass with everyday when you step on us just for being there when you take a piss or want your wine glasses refilled!"

Fisk was estatic on the inside. He was ad libbing as far as he was concerned, but one rooted from his very guts. His fur ruffled at the notion of everytime someone with a gold watch had the nerve to crush and trample over a person revolving around the one or two paychecks that came every few weeks. To stay clothed, fed, warm, and healthy were the only priorities on his mind. Nothing like the guy doing the crushing, whose only concern were how many threads does his Italian made jacket have?

He was met with the eyes opposing his very morals on the matters of where he thought of that spectrum of society. Some were filled with disgust, confusion, and even anger. Not at Fisk himself. But on why security hasn't removed him from the building in a spectacular fashion yet, kicking and screaming to seal the deal. Honestly he was wondering something alone those lines to really get as he would quoute on of his favorite reading material, 'get the money shot'.

Just as he finished wondering about such a spectacle, security officers came swarming around the dinner trolly, bumping right through the crowd of messied people. Fisk let them have it, holding the clam chowder and chicken soup equipped with his 'special ingredients' that he cooked up during a second trip to the kitchen for a double cleaning session. Both of the bowls held in his hands made contact with their faces, with all of them retching in disgust. Fisk tried his best to hold in his laughter as as they squirmed around trying to get it off, even stumbling on themselves in pitiful fashion.

The whole lobby exploded with gasps of horror as if they had witnessed a phenomenon occur right in front of their very eyes, though it was nothing more than the apparent dealings of child getting pay back for those less fortunate, and having fun while doing it. Suddenly, the noise was cut, sliced in half as the elevator sounded off. The doors slowly opened. The loud sounds of shoes tapping step by step echoed all around putting everyone, even Fisk, on full attention.

Kendrick Talcott was many things. Stockbroker, recreational director, businessman, a suspicious miracle come to reality by his own merit and effort, millionare. He could affirm to all of them if he wanted. But his presence was undeniable stepping into a room. His charisma spoke for miles. He doesn't ask for attention, he is given it.

Talcott looked at Fisk, who felt his blood turn to stone at the very gaze. He gave a stiffened smirk as he slowly walked over to him.

"So...this is the disturbance that has called me from my own office, in my own building, before my very own press conference?" He sized Fisk up with a quick glance."Your appearance is meticulous on the grounds of convincing these wonderful people of your nature, but as far as lasting impressions go, well." He paused to straighten his neck tie."I've seen better."

Almost as if regaining consciousness, Fisk began to animate, stepfording his best grin.

"This coming from the big shot whose gotta rely on the big guys standing in front of him to take care of his own dirty work?" He said gesturing to Talcott's guards."Also the same guy that lets his fat cat guests just walk over the real workers around here? You'll have to take a giant fuck you for not taking that compliment of yours and shoving it down my throat."

Talcott snorted.

"Such an artistic vocabulary from 'the people'. You must have come in with the company that is cleaning up for this event aren't you?"

"You could say that." Fisk felt his very palms starting to grease up. The half truths were piling up sure, but it was only a matter of time before they would topple over. Unknowing to him though, they might have already.

"Well I think you can already guess what comes next then? And if your own persecreate skull can't formulate such a simple answer, allow me to clue you in." Talcott stretched out his finger with all of the authority and respect behind him."What will happen is that I will personally exit you from my building with nary a speck on my silk suit, and you will never step foot on this property again."

Fisk stood upright, feeling his fists tighten and his blood starting to come alive, he felt the challenge coming from Talcott. He wanted him to try something. Whether it was a bluff or not was something that couldn't be told from a glance, unless you were Fisk Black.

He couldn't explain it with great detail, but he was always good at reading the true intentions of anyone just from a few words alone. The effect that words could have on an individual usually varied from person to person. Their story, what the potential of their ideals were. But Kendrick Talcott was different. There was no merit to reading a man who has already acheived the success in life that he strived towards. The price was something that was debatable to him.

He looked down at him from his makeshift throne that made himself seem a little bigger than he was was, with the look of a pretender to match, and he knew it too. How far was he to making his way to the truth, the mild mannered ruffian that was only doing an old man a favor he didn't ask for. Talcott raised his hand, as if to strike something down from the sky. Suddenly there was silence as his hand reached higher and higher as if he tried to stretch towards the ceiling itself. Fisk put himself on guard or any possible thing that might happen.

In a second, the silence was broken, not by a loud ambience, but a sharp whistle. It stinged in everyones ears with them not being able to tell what it was for a brief moment. Sense took nothing but a few seconds to reassert itself with the noise, making it out to be the tiny piercing of glass. It was quiet again, but eyes were moving all around. All everyone could see was one of the guests neatly prepared pearl white suit, and glaring sound of red splattered all over it like a child's idea of art. His eyelids flew everywhere, but they were gone.

The crowd held their breath as his body fell to the floor. He wasn't moving even when nobody bothered to move him. Fisk saw the signs ring in his ear, eye, and his ass as it moved for cover behind the trolley. Talcott saw his eyes move as well, not with the crowd, but beyond the looking glass itself, seeing cars belonging to company more familar than the one he was surrounded by. His heartbeat drowned his own version of the silence, but an even bigger noise drowned that out.

Lightning and thunder accomponied by a sea of bullets.

 **CHAPTER 5 END**

 **Fro Ninja; Holy shit, this chapter took forver to get back onto. As of this release, this plus the previous chapters leading up to it will be given proper numbers as I was getting pretty irritated at looking at the events being an arc, but not quite a full blown arc that I'm used to doing. Anyway, the mysteries surrounding an unfounded death, will be blown wide open next release. Please be sure to comment and follow your boy for more releases in the future. Peace, and remember One Love!**


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